LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



la.. 



Shelf. J&..5.5 il 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



VECUTION THOUGHTS. 



VACATION THOUGHTS; 



A COLLECTION OF POEMS. 



bymyrok e. baker 



DEC 14 887 ^] 



MADISON, WIS.: 

Democrat Printing Company, 

1887. 



1 



.0 



\^^ 



COPYRIGHT HY 

MYRON E BAKER, 

1887. 



^TO MOTHER. 



I 



PREFACE. 

The poems, if so they may be called, which constitute 
this little volume, were written for the most part during 
the past summer vacation. 

While they are most of them the expression of original 
feeling in the author, some are subjects quite remote from 
any inspiration, in many cases written mechanically and 
principally for discipline, some were written as school 
exercises, and a few are imitative of well known poems 
but inferior to those which suggested them. They are the 
rude l^eginnings, and are by no means a satisfaction. There 
has ever been an ideal clearly before the author's mind, 
but it has been in vain that he has striven to reach it or 
even nearly approach it when so limited by incompleteness 
and immaturity, and it is only from pressure of circum- 
stances and present need that he is induced to venture the 
publication, hoping that thus he may be able to derive 
means for further development. 



PREFACE. i 

The composition of poetry in itself is very beneficial, 
and of the greatest value in inducing acuteness of thought 
and excellence in taste; but the harmful tendency is in 
rushing into print before there is maturity and individuality 
or without sufficient merit. There is a large amount of 
such literature appearing yearly, which has its day and is 
forgotten, and the author of this little volume is pain- 
fully conscious that he is putting forth what is manifestly of 
the same class, and justifies himself only in the end. 

His chief object in this little book is to raise the means 
necessary for finishing a college course. If it shall have 
accomplished that he will feel justified and repaid both for 
the work and the personal sacrifice, and he will expect as he 
wishes that after it has served its purpose it will be 
forgotten. 

Hoping that the defects will be overlooked in the circum- 
stances which have brought it out, 

^ Vei-y truly, 

THE AUTHOR. 
Kenosha, Wis., SepL 7, /S^y. 



AMORI SUPPLEX. 

am I Avorthy her love, 

Her pure, unselfish heart's love 

To me given 

From heights so far above 

Near unto heaven ? 

No, No, not worthy; 

But I conceal 

The imperfections that I feel — 

The coarse and earthly — ■ 

And from her sight. 

Her pure love light, 

1 hide away my nothingness. 
And seek her love to bless 
Me with its tenderness. 

Yet have I striven 

From out the depths to rise 

To meet her eyes. 

Be known and be forgiven. 

And with the purpose strong and deep at heart 

Contended for tlie manlier part; 



10 AMOR I SUPPLE X, 

Threw off the bonds and from the dungeon deep 

Climbed up the hilly steep 

With lips compressed, 

Without a rest, 

O'er thorny way 

And rugged rock, 

Climbed up to meet the day^ 

But all in vain, 

Foot-sore and worn 

With burdens borne, 

Fell back again 

Down to the darksome deep. 

But joy 1 She followed me 
And stretched her hand to me I 
She did not see 
Down steps how steep 
Or depths how deep 
Under the ground she wended,^ 
When she to my soul descended^ 
Bui to my heart's lone cells, 
Her heart with love intent, 
Her eyes on me 
And thoughts of me. 
Unheeding where she went 
Or darksome the descent^ 
Came and found me. 



AMORI SUPPLEX, 11 



I led her soul apart 

Down many steps and steep 

To the dungeon of my heart, 

And hand in hand we went, 

O love, hand in hand, 

Down to our home so deep 

Where light of day 

Was shut away. 

But there she set a light — 

A steady, glowing light whose beams 

Drove out the night 

And sent its pulsing streams 

To every dark recess, 

Until at last the gloom 

Was cleared away 

And I saw breaking day. 

She led me on in ways unknown 

O'er heights I could not scale alone, 

O'er steeps and fallen stone, 

Till in the full noon-light 

With promise bright 

We stood upright. 

O help me, Spirits, more. 

Ye Spirits of pure love ! 

Help me to be. 

True Love, the more like the« 



12 AMORI SUPPLE X. 

And more worthy; 

Though failing oft and still in vain 

To dear and build again 

The better than before, 

Help me the more. 




HOPE, 

Come, Hope, with eyes so bright, and lead me on. 
I leave the past — the cold, dead past — behind, 
And all its weight of happiness and joy, 
Its sorrows and its tears are naught to me, 
For past joys are remembered with regret, 
And dead afifections come not back again : 
So let them pass away. 

But let me view 
The fair landscape that stretches far before 
To morning's rosy light. Its splendors thrill 
My beating heart, and I would be away 
And leave the night behind. A radiance 
Of light my vision floods, an atmosphere 
Of cordial breathes around my grateful sense, 
And ecstacies of song break on my ears. 
Now from the rifted clouds, the sunny light 
Is fallen on a maiden's form, and I 
Am held in sweetest trance; and now again 
Its glory falls upon a monument 
Of marble, pale and cold, and round its sides 
Are laurel wreaths that beauteous appear, 



14 HOPE, 

And riches at its foot, and I press on 
To greet the monument, the laurels, and 
The gold; and hand in hand with Hope again 
I see the glorious splendor falling now 
From Heaven, where I gaze with raptured eye 
And see the Vision Beautiful. 

So, Hope, 
With thee the past evanishes and all 
The future is a pleasant vale that lies 
Half hidden in the mist and beautiful 
As cities in the distance seem. 

With thee 
All things are bright and good, and at thy voice 
E'en weakness rises up from where it lies, 
With heart that pulses quick and eager hands, 
And over all its enemies prevails. 
At thy command it forges iron chains 
And fetters strong of triple steel, and binds 
The vanquished fears and black despair, and thrusts 
Them down to dungeons where they rage in vain. 
Thy presence steals upon the troubled mind, 
And at thy touch the burning fever leaves, 
And all within is tranquil and serene. 
For as thou givest strength, thou givest peace. 



TO A VIRTUOUS YOUNG LADY. 
Sweet picture do you make in my esteem, 
Fair maiden, and your presence more I feel 
Than do I see the picture you reveal, 
For I'm assured you are just what you seem; 
And you, this Christmas morn as you appear 
In neglige and with the children here, 
Intent upon their sports and laughing low, 
In helpful ministry, and telling o'er 
The happy children of the Child once more, 
Have never till this time quite charmed me so; 
Yet these are not the central things that make 
Me conscious of your better self, nor springs 
There admiration for your form or face. 
I do not see your hair with every grace 
Unloosed in tresses brown and gold, but now 
Transfigured light upon your thoughtiul brow 
And calm and peace within the deep blue eyes 
From out whose depths unfathomed seems to rise 
The wealth of sympathy that underlies, 
A thoughtful countenance in which do meet 
Sweet records lived and promises as sweet. 



16 TO A VIRTUOUS YOUNG LADY. 

I see a soul and not a face, and read 

A history, a song, a truth, a need. 

Youth's glory rests upon your cheek; your brow 

Is lighted with its hope; and yo\i are now 

As Mary at her Master's feet reclined, 

Or Ruth, the chooser of the better part, 

Of sweet content and dignity of mind, 

Of modest worth, and truth, and chaste of heart; 

And may God guide and be with you, pure one, 

As He has been, and you may richly bless 

With tender love and truth and happiness. 



EVENTIDE. 

There is an hour when I remember thee : 

'Tis when the setting sun hath kissed the flowers, 

And when the moonlight fills the evening hours; 

All nature rests in sweet tranquility, 

And thy face haunts my willing memory. 

'Tis a sweet time — for as the evening lowers 

The gentle wind and calm hath magic powers 

To bring again thy presence back to me; 

Then all is blessed, for I call to mind 

Thy gentle ways and all the scenes beloved 

Which once we trod together, and I find 

A consolation in the thoughts approved 

Of eventide, while pleasing fancies tell 

A world of joy, till dew-fall breaks the spell 



— «.>^§e5K^^ 



TO IN HER SEVENTEENTH YEAR. 

How beautiful your youth ! O spirit bright ! 
Your mortal lineaments seem all refined 
By kindly Nature and a gentle mind 
To something holier and purer quite 
Than flesh and blood; and your soul so white ! 
And when I see your brow and fair young cheek 
And loosened tresses flecked with golden light, 
Your sweet endeavor and your spirit meek, 
I mind me of the snowdrop, Winter's child, 
That brings the fairest promise of the year. 
Dear spirit, pure one, chaste and undefiled, 
Of artless ways and blithesome heart sincere, 
Let me, sweet flower unfolding in this air, 
Commend you to our loving Father's care. 



FRIENDSHIP AND LOVE. 

A little youth and maiden 

Were playing all alone, 
Where the lovely violets 

Were sweet and freshly blown. 

O they were like the sunshine, 
Their eyes, the sky above; 

And Friendship was the gentler one, 
The bolder one was Love. 

She said, and paused in playing, 
"Without you what am I; 

Unless you tend my opening buds. 
My blossoms droop and die." 

"Not so," he answered softly; 
" Without you I am naught, 
■ For love not born in friendship 
Is but a passing thought." 

So they made a chain of violets, 
And bound each other fast. 

O may the love that friendship is 
Grow ever strong and last ! 



COMMUNION. 

My soul is an enchanted boat, 
Which seems to float forever 

Upon a strange mysterious stream, 
And thine with mine together. 

We float past mountains, woods, and hills 

Their beauty past revealing; 
Our spirits flow together in 

A. paradise of feeling; 

And far away we hear the sound 

Of dulcet voices singing; 
And woods and valleys all around 

With harmony are ringing; 

And in the trancing dreamy calm 

We float forever, ever, 
Our spirits rapt in peace and rest 

Upon the winding river. 



TO THE C. L. S. C. 

Chautauqua, hail to thee ! 
The chime of your bells is heard to-day 
In many a heart that's far away; 
And you scatter your blessings free, 
Chautauqua, hail to thee ! 

On, on, to the city of God ! 

His light shall illumine the pathway we tread, 

And open the way where our Master has led; 

And your work is noble and good. 

On, on, to the city of God ! 



RELIGION, 

keligion is a feeling 
Away down in the heart, 
That goodness is worth living for 
And we must do our part; 

That the great God who made us, 
The earth and skies above, 
Dwells with us, makes life beautiful 
And sacred with his love. 



■^-Ce\ 



L'ALLEGRC). 

1 can not tell what happened; 

I only know I feel 
A heart so full of happiness 

it seems but partly real. 

The lark goes singing in the sky, 

And rapt I watch his flight; 
The oriole's and linnet's song 

Awakes a new delight. 

And everywhere and everything 
Is now so changed and cheery, 

I labor all the happy day, 
And am not tired or weary; 

And those old, thoughtful, sober moodsjf 
That vexed and pained me so, 

Are gone completely since you came 
And set my soul aglow. 

I know not how you found in^. 
What impulse led you here; 



24 L^ALLEGBO, 

But the earth has changed around me, love, 
Since once you came so near; 

And now forgetting all things else 

For this, the nearest tie, 
I look to you for happiness, 

And happy am I. 



A GREEK LOVER'S MONODY. 

IL PENSEROSO. 

Come silent night all darkly, 
And brood upon the hapless cares of earth; 
Be hushed ye mocking sounds of mirth; 
And Nightingale be still; or if you sing, 
Sing, Philomel, with drooping wing 
Your saddest strain of melancholy; 
And come ye ebon shapes of Morpheus' train, 
And give surcease of care in sleep. 
While I sink down lapped in a soothing strain 
Down, down to some Lethean deep. 
There I'll forget this racking pain 
That throbs within my aching brain. 
Time drags himself with weary pace 
While Day is held in Night's embrace; 
While like the dark Etrurian shade 
That high-arched Vallombrosa made, 
The thick gloom rests upon the ground, 
And cloaks the earth in rest profound; 
8 



26 A GREEK lover's MONODY. 

Or as passed through the Avernian cave 

To that dark shade beyond the grave, 

'Tis said rolls woeful Acheron 

And Cocytus of lamentalion; 

There where shades bereft of light 

Wander woeful in their flight, 

Or in the gloomy myrtle grove 

Walk the shades forlorn in love 

And all unfortunates that mourn 

For sorrows and afilictions borne, 

And where Dido and Pyrrha wait, 

And Sappho fled from Phaon's hate. 

How sad and mournful all around 

With but the hoot-owl's dismal sountl. 

Or through the darkness far and faint. 

The Whip-poor-will's grievous complaint. 

I tossing on the pillow lie 

With fevered brain and sleepless eye. 

While others rest in peaceful sleep, 

And even the fowl of air and deep. 

And beasts of the field and those that make 

Their homes in thicket and in brake, 

Enjoy sleep's restoring balm; 

And all the world is lost in calm, 

Bat no nepenthe comes to me. 

The pale-faced moon in tears I see, 

I.ooking through the misty space 



A GREEK lover's MONODY. 27 

With such a wan and woeful face; 
As Orpheus when he dared to take 
A backward look, and saw forsake 
The Shade of Eurydice beloved; 
Or as he when fair Daphne fled, 
The Delian, saw her lost to him 
And laurel grown in every limb; 
And Leucothea walks the night 
To re-salute the world with light, 
The strength of wearied limbs, renew, 
And balm the earth in opiate dew. 
Now all is still except the leaves- 
Of Dodon oaks, that in the breeze 
Seem to whisper doubts and fears 
And vain misgivings in my ears. 
I see the fleecy Northern Star 
That bears Andromeda afar, 
The cynosure of Perseus: 
And Alcides with Cerberus. 
I watch the little star away 
In hapless Cassiopia 
That seems so lorn and woeful-wan; 
There Aldebaran and Procyon 
lunit their misty, mournful light, 
And there Betelguese so bright 
Adorns the doughty warrior's arm; 
And there Medusa's dread alarm; 



28 A GRKEK lover's MONODY. 

And I watch them, and they watch me 

In mutual mocking misery. 

I toss and tumble in unrest; 

I long to sleep, but fears arrest 

The drooping lids that fain would close 

In tranquil slumber's sweet repose. 

Now phantom hope crowds through the brain; 

Now moody fears control again. 

I hear the dirges of the wave 

So mournful, sad, and solemn grave. 

In liarmony with all the earth, 

And with the thoughts that have their birth 

Within my darkly brooding soul 

And give their color to the whole. 

Like Pandora, the goddess Love 

Is graced with all the gifts above. 

But from the casket of her woes 

What pain and doubt and misery flows ! 

Yes, very Circe with charmed cup ! 

I drink the whole potation up, 

And straightway at her changing will 

Smart with every pain and ill. 

At her sweet will I'm all so glad. 

And at a word downcast and sad; 

I dote upon her smile; I know 

Not whether she love me, and so 

I die a thousand deaths, and then 



A GREEK lover's MONODY. 29 

Tn one sweet look I live again. 

And dying live and living die 

In every glance or word or sigh. 

lole, coy and hard to please, 

Why is it that you love to tease ? 

You said you loved me not. What then ? 

You'll say you love me once again; 

So why do I not turn to sleep, 

Nor longer think to doubt or weep ? 

dear lole ! Be more kind, 
Relieve niy doubting, fearing mind 
From phantom form of hope and dread, 
And give rest to my aching head; 

Say that you love me, me alone. 
And as the harnessed hours move on 

1 turn upon my couch once more 
As restless, sleepless as before. 

l'allegro. 

Hail happy Nature smiling ! 

The fields delight; the rivulets are gay; 

And through the livelong, blithesome day, 

My heart with joy beguiling, 

I hear the thrush in raptures sing, 

The sweet voiced lark on soaring wing. 

And far away the goldfinch's note 

From the cheery songster's throat. 



30 A GREEK lover's MONODY 

Come Terpsichore of the song and dance 

My willing soul entrance; 

Thou too, Erato, and rehearse 

My joys in gladsome lyric verse; 

And pensive Thalia chaste and pure 

With pastoral idyls more demure. 

My heart so light is scarce contained 

For very happiness constrained. 

How fair the earth is in these tides 

When the sun with Taurus rides, — 

Happy spring time with its dowers 

Of Amalthea's fairest flowers ! 

The whole world an Elysium seems 

With pleasant vales and laughing streams 

And flowery fields where zephyrs play 

With Flora all the joyous day, 

And softly full of tenderness 

Linger in her fond caress. 

1 hear the sound of Hermes' reed. 

And see the careless shepherds lead 

Their blithesome flocks to distant fields, 

And on the balmy breezes steals 

The Arcadian pipe and Dorian mood 

And voice of birds from yonder wood. 

Sabean odors scent the air. 

And, busily humming here and there,. 

The bees as on Hvnxettus' hills 



A GBEEK lover's MONODY. 31 

'Ihe clover's liquid sweet distills. 

While yet the lady Dawn afar 

Was opening for Phoebus' car 

The gates of morning in the east 

i\nd her rosy charms increased, 

I rose and sought with troubled love 

The dewy fields and silent grove 

Where I could cherish all my fears, 

When like Niobe all in tears, 

I^aw lole weeping there, 

Drooping as with love-lorn care 

And crying as her heart would break. 

Fair as a naiad of the lake, 

Or like a wood-nymph pining sad, 

A Delian nymph or Oread. 

I took her hand and pressed her cheek, 

Kissed her, begged her not to weep, 

Said that Hylas loved her, did not mean 

What he'd said the yestere'en; 

And I felt glad and she like me 

As happy as Euphrosyne, 

And so the world is full of joy 

And happiiless without alloy. 



OCTOBER. 

The year so fair in summer 

Now is nearly done, 
And the yellow leaves of Autumn 

Are falling one by one, 

Are falling one by one, 
■ And on the wonted bough 
Where the birds once sang so sweetly 

All is still and cheerless now. 

E'en so the heart is lonely 

For friends -that do not stay; 

Aye, the flowers that bloom the sweetest 
The soonest pass away, 
The soonest pass away 
When summer time is o'er; 

And like the bough forsaken 

Is the heart foreverm6re. 



TO DR. Hor.LAND. 

Dear Doctor, I have learned to feel 

Your words as holy truth, 
And your precepts have been the guide 

The censor of my youth. 

What inspirations I have gained 
From teachings of your page, 

What aspirations, nobler aims, 
Will not forsake my age; 

And from your noblest work of all, 

Full many a vital spark 
Has fallen on my heart, with power 

To illumine what was dark. 

And from the fullness of my soul 

Let me this tribute give 
To one who more than other men 

Has taught me how to live. 



MV KATIK. 

'•'A teacher's life is full of care 
And troubles sore and weighty; '' 

1 smiled to hear a friend reply; 
But she had not my Katie. 

A little country girl was she, 

And fair of form and feature, 
Who came to school and said to me 

Each day, "Good morning, teacher; " 

And all the weary, livelong day, 

Attentive to her study. 
Pursued her quiet, cheerful way, 

Nor spoke to anybody; 

And when the time came, said " Good night. 
And joined her mates demurely. 

And left me happy, happy there. 
Well paid for etfort surely. 

And yet she was a happy child, 
And cheer'd the world around her 



MY KATIE, 35 

With smiles as full of sunny light 

As the head of gold that crowned her; 

And calm, blue eyes that told you true 
Were filled with deep expression; 

And she endeavored, sweetly, too, 
To " truly get her lesson." 

I learned to watch the winding road. 

To see my Katie coming; 
A pensive smile upon her face, 

Along the roadside trudging; 

A bunch of spring-flowers in one hand. 

In one her little sister, 
Her little brother on before — 

I scai-cely ever missed her; 

A quiet step I knew so well, 

"Good morning,'' sweetly spoken. 

And in one hand her sister's still. 
In mine the little token. 

And all the tiresome day I felt 

The gladness of her greeting, 
And well rewarded for my pains 

When I went home at evening; 



?>6 MY KATIfJ. 

And if my friend had had, as I, 

A little girl like Katie, 
She then would not have had to sigh 

For " teacher's cares so weighty.' 



•9 



VERSES TO "PASS UNDER THE ROD." 

I saw a fond family circle close drawn 

To a father beloved and endeared; 
And the future conformed to the glow of their 
hearts, 

And the fairest of fancies were reared; 
And the joys of the worldly and gains of the rich 

vSeemed but trifles compared with content; 
And their home was their world and their treasures 
the gifts 

Which the bounty of heaven had sent; 
But I saw when the pallor of merciless death 

Had imprinted his brow with its chill; 
And the father and husband was stricken from 
them, 

And the circle was broken and still; 
But the Healer was there with the fatherless ones; 

And He watched them with fatherly care; 
And the heart He had taken drew her's from 

below 
And enthroned it in happiness there. 



38 TO '"PASS UNUER THE ROD^ 

They had each heard a voice — 'twas the voice of 
their God : 
"I loVe thee, I love thee, pass under the rod," 

I saw two dear friends with their faces aglow. 

As light hearted as Nature in May; 
And they walked arm in arm, and their thoughts 
were attuned 
To their heart beats so buoyant and gay; 
And their friendship had Moven a tender-linked 
chain 
Which had made their two souls but as one; 
And together they shared changing sorrows and 
joys, 
While thus brightly their lives were begun; 
But I marked stealing over a friend's pallid face 

A shadow — the shadow of Death; 
And in anguish a friend watched over a friend 

While was ebbing the slow tide of breath. 
But the Healer was tliere who had stricken the 
heart; 
And He made it more pure and refined; 
And the Lethe of sympathy purged it of pain, 

And o'erflowed with good will to mankind; 
For there whispered a voice, — 'tis the voice of 
our God : 
"I love thee, I love thee, pass under the rod." 



TO ''PASS UNDER THE ROI)\ 39 

I saw side by side in the vigor of health 

A youth and a maidenly girl; 
And they walked in the morning of uubetrayed 
hope — 
In the day-dreams their fancies unfurl. 
Oh he loved her most dearly and valued her joy 

As the happiest part of his own; 
And she trusted confidingly in his bright hopes; 

And together time quickly had flown; 
But I saw when the fever had kissed her flushed 
cheek 
And her forehead was chilled with the frost, 
He knelt by her couch and in agony prayed, 

And in vain called her name whom he'd lost; 
But the Healer was there who had called her 
from earth; 
And he turned to the Comforting One, 
And the bitter cup passed from his lips, and he 
said : 
"O my Father, 'tis Thy will l)e done." 
There had whispered a voice — 'twas the voice of 
his God : 
"I love thee, I love thee, pass under the rod." 



IIADLEY WOOD. 

Now the gray old oaks are lighted with the west- 
ward glowing sun; 

Through their bi-anches climbs the setting, and 
the day is nearly done. 

Still I linger with what longing in these shades of 

Hadley wood; 
And within my being mingle all of sorrow and of 

good. 

Here as ever stand the oaks, exulting in their 

ancient days; 
Here the paths that I have trodden, all the old 

familiar ways. 

Here as ever wave the tree-tops, and the breezes 

whisper low, 
Just as when, a boy, I listened, on the Druids 

long ago; 

For the leaves that rustled softly spoke a language 

to my ear 
Whose import and primal meaning my young 

heart vras quick to heai ; 



HADLEY WOOD. 41 

And I hear the same low whispers stealing to my 

ear to-day, 
But my heart clings to December while the wood 

is in its May. 

Yonder sits the thrush enraptured, but the thrush 

and linnet sing 
To the burden of my feeling, calling back another 

Spring. 

Then the scented breath of clover came to us from 
yonder hill, 

While we picked the yellow buttercups and wan- 
dered at our will; 

Then the wild birds sang their sweetest, and we 

lingered in the shade. 
And we gathered blue-eyed violets in cool of 

yonder glade; 

Then you promised with your blue eyes when I 

asked your love for mine. 
And the joys of heaven came to bless the kiss 

that sealed me thine. 

But the summer passed away, and ere I dreamed 

the time had flown 
Came the cheerless days of Autumn, and I was 

left alone; 
4 



42 BADLEY WOOD. 

For one day the flowers perished when the wood 

was cold and drear, 
And with them my gentld* Annie at the closing of 

the year. 

Oh that you were with me Annie ! here in Hadley 

wood again; 
And the Spring would stir my pulses as it stirred 

my pulses then. 

For my limbs were strong in action, and ambition 

spurred me on; 
And 'twas but the early morning of the work I 

had begun; 

And I longed to meet the future that my eager 

eyes beheld. 
Till the bow of promise faded and the vision was 

dispelled. 

Though my friends at home await me, still I 

linger in the wood; 
And amid its deep'ning shadows cherish still my 

inward mood. 

But along the oak-tops stealing come the voices of 

the breeze; 
And once more I hear the mystery speaking to 

me from the trees; 



HADLEY WOOD. 43 

And once more I feel the Presence filling all the 

solitude; 
And I turn me from the longing, and I lose my 

selfish mood; 

For the Spirit that had chastened, breathing in 

the silence here. 
Steals upon my heart and soothes it in a peace 

that passeth fear; 

And I drink the cup of bitterness nor ask the 

sweeter one; 
And no more complaining vainly, say : " Thy 

will, not mine, be done." 

Yet I grieve for thee, my Annie, and my heart 

shall ever be 
In the bosom of old Hadley, slumbering in the 

grave with thee; 

And when here again I wander in the Spring time 

or the Fall, 
I shall think of one who perished, once the fairest 

flower of all. 

But the Spring will come with Hadley, and the 

flowers will bloom once more, 
And the violet and arbutus as lovely as before; 



44 HADLEY WOOD. 

And so, too, I know in Heaven will my Annie 

bloom again, 
But no more in Hadley wood we'll meet, Annie 

and I as then. 

But when the mighty oaks of Hadley shall have 

perished and be gone. 
In a fairer home than this was I and Annie shall 

live on. 

Yes, the Springs will cone with Hadley, and the 

thrush and linnet sing, 
But when T shall hear their gladness I'll recall 

another Spring. 

And Autumn days will come again, October's red 

and gold. 
Till the boughs are all forsaken and are sighing 

in the cold; 

And I'll watch the twirling oak leaves as they 

flutter to the ground. 
And I'll think how like my hopes were to the 

leaves that fall around; 

And at last the outlined oaks I'll see against the 

wintry sky. 
Hoary with the rime of Winter, bare and desolate 

as I: 



HADLEY WOOD. 45 

And when snows of some December Madley 

wood have wrapped in white, 
I will follow gentle Annie to the realms beyond 

the night. 

Yet why should I speak so falsely ! It is ill that 

I have thought, 
For I still should live to labor else my life were 

lived for naught. 

O, my soul no longer inward on thy sorrow and 

thy care ! 
Search for self no longer inward, for thyself is 

otherwhere. 

Outward, outward passes thought from quickened 

brain to goodliest deed, 
Outward to the pulse of nations, outward to the 

sufferer's need. 

He who made me, He who kept me, did not give 

me life to wrong; 
I will cherish thoughts more worthy, I will live 

and still be strong; 

i will live, for life is worth more than a broken 

heart can name. 
■Onward, upward, with the foremost I will seek a 

nobler aim I 



46 HADLEY WOOD. 

For the world is slow advancing from the confines 

of the night; 
And the latest day is dawning with a new and 

fuller light. 

Shall I teach the rule of reason and yet err 

against its law ? 
Shall I hope for human grandeur and yet show 

its chiefest flaw ? 

I will rise and be in action, not the Stoic but the 

man, 
For true brotherhood and helpfulness and labor 

as I can. 

Let me labor to the utmost but I then shall not 

forget ! 
Let me love as people need it, but a greater holds 

me yet ! 

What are time or place or living to a true and 

cherished love ! 
Earth may hold all other blessings, but I'll seek 

for one above. 

But the shades of night creep lower, and o'er 

spread the world with gloom; 
And the moon's soft light is falling on her distant 

marble tomb. 



HADLEY WOOD. 47 

One by one the stars are twinkling with their still 
and lambent glow; 

And I watch them while they blossom in the tree- 
tops as I go. 



C^:::^^fgr4^^^:lJ^ 



COMPENSATION. 

Like some great tree — the strong and mighty 

oak — 
That strikes its roots still deeper day by day, 
Anvl grapples with the rocks that bar its way, 
x\nd bears the firmer each fell tempest's stroke, 
And, when the breezes and the sun provoke. 
Conceals its rugged trunk in bright array 
Of foliage, and branches new and gay, 
With fuller strength and beauty 'neath its cloak; 
So e'en the soul, by grief and anguish torn. 
Becomes the stronger for its care and pain. 
And reaches out and holds the good and true 
Until they give relief and strength anew. 
And full of hope and cheeriness again, 
A finer, more etherial beauty's worn. 



Mow? 

How do flowers know 'tis day 

And ope their eyes ? 
How do streamlets find the way 

From where they rise ? 

I see the seedling upward reach, 
But who should teach ? 

And stars through endless spaces ride, 
And where the guide ? 

But all things are as best they should, 

And God is good; 
And I can trust for the human soul 

Its rightful goal. 



WOMAN. 

Not angel, quite, as poets dream, 

But rather nearer God and man, 

And higher, nearer does she seem 

To him who knows and loves her best, 

In truth, more human, more divine. 

In her I've seen the Master's face. 

And found my living bread and wine. 

Nay, if God dwell in earth and air. 

Then have I seen the Eternal One 

Enshrined within a woman's form 

And claiming worship from my heart. 

True sister of the son of Man, 

And sister of the son of God. 

In sickness near and yet divine — 

In sickness, almost coveted 

For very sympathy it brings. 

Her hand is like the hand of God 

The while it cools the fevered brow. 

Yet nearer far than His could be; 

And when the strength permits no more, 

Her hand is grasped with thankfulness ^ 



WOMAS^. 61 

Her cherished hand — with joy and love, 

With gratitude only tears can tell. 

If sorrows come, a comforter, 

The true disciple of that One 

Whose ministries she best can give. 

Her voice will linger, leading thought 

With cheerful words from fear or doubt, 

Redeeming care with sympathy, 

And soothing weight of pain with calm; 

And in the darkest hours of life 

Her gentle spirit leads to light. 

Her frail hand soothes, her faith supports: 

And man may falter, man may fall, 

Before temptation's slightest blow, 

While she resists and clings to him 

Through darkest fortune, loyal still, 

Though he shall stain his hands with crime. 

This is not weakness; it is strength. 

The strength of Him who loves and bears 

Though we forget and slight His love. 

O woman ! — mother, wife, or friend ! 
What sweeter names are on the tongue 
To thrill the heart or move the soul ! 
O mother ! Shall another love. 
Or shall another feel for me 
The holy love you bear and feel ? 



WOMAN. 

Enduring and unselfish love 

That never changes — • mother-love ! 

A wife, true wife, to say " God speed ! " 

To greet the wearied after toil 

With looks of gladness in her eyes. 

That cheat fatigue of all its pain, 

And fill the soul with her sunshine. 

Is a being linked to angels and 

Exalting him to her estate. 

Yet where in heaven may there be 

An angel like a gentle wife, 

So angel-like and yet so near ? 

Or friend, to win the confidence. 

And steal upon the inmost thoughts 

Like summer winds on sleeping vales, 

Or breezes in the sultry noon ! 

And I have given confidence. 

And never have I been betrayed 

By woman. 

What her friendship is. 
Those who have never felt the need 
May never know. Her kindness comes 
As heaven sheds the dew, unasked, 
And seeking no reward but love. 
Oh ! there have been times when I felt 
The weight of cares I may not name, 



WOMAN. 53 

When life seemed burdensome and dark, 
And all things wrong and out of tune. 
When she has seemed the only tie 
That bound me to this hated earth; 
And then again has she fired hope 
And aspiration in my breast, 
And made life seem a very joy; 
A^id with her hand in mine, led me 
To see the beauty of this world. 
Which I had missed before, until 
In tears of very hope and joy 
I've thanked God for the right to live. 
And thanked Him that 1 had a friend. 
Yes, I have lived again in but 
The pressure of her hand, and so 
In truth to God and womankind 
I give this tribute of my love. 



CHANNING. 

Etherial spirit, well I know that now 
Thou art in Heaven near the Central Light, 
Yet now I seem to see tht)se eyes so bright 
With kindly smiles, the calm and saintly brow, 
The spare, slight form, the shoulders drooping 

low. 
I seem to hear that calm, sweet voice to-night, 
A Beethoven's symphony of still delight 
Transporting me from darkness here below 
To heavenly air and light, as once of yore 
Was Miriam's timbrel heard on the Red Sea 

Shore. 
Sweet Buddha of the West ! His life lives on 
In promises fulfilled when he is gone. 
I know not what in that far brighter sphere 
The angels call him; he was Channing here. 



MASTER. 

Dear One, Pure One of Nazareth, Thou art 
As near as when Thou walked in Galilee, 
And taught upon the mount or by the sea; 
For now is Thy abode in the pure heart, 
And still Thou teachest men the better part. 
In those I love Thy lineaments I see; 
I hear Thy voice in those most dear to me; 
And hand in hand Thou leadest me apart 
From my worse self, as by Gennesaret 
The young man by his evil self beset. 
Unmeasured fullness of Our Father's love 
Illumined Thee with wisdom from above; 
Not so am I. I follow, for 'twas given 
To Thee the power to teach the way to Heaven. 



^ '^xm?y' 



WORSHIP. 

It is not singing psalms 

Is music in God's ear, 
But it is being one 

That he delights to hear. 

Not only lips but lives 

Must swell the anthem's strain 
And voice the hymn of praise. 

Or else the song is vain. 

To be true worshippers, 
We must ourselves be true 

To all the good we know 
And all that we can do; 

For we ourselves are temples, 
Our hearts His holiest shrine; 

And in them, if they're truthful, 
He'll enter with love divine. 



TELL ME SO SOMETIMES. 

Ves, [ know you love nie, dearest, 

But 'tis sweet to hear it said; 
Though my soul be still the nearest, 

On assurance is it fed. 

Could I doubt it ? Not at. all, love, 

But I want to feel it, too; 
Though the knowing does the mind, love, 

For the heart it will not do. 

Heart and soul get hungry, truly, 

As the stomach or the mind; 
If you do not feed them duly. 

They, too, perish, you would find. 

Let me feel the true heart union. 

It will do the spirit good. 
In the lip's and soul's communion 

Find I heart's own living food. 

So though I may know it well, dear, 
Though the truth itself I know, 

Clasp your arms around my neck, dear, 
Kiss me still and tell me so. ^ 



WERE I TO DIE TO-NIGHT. 

Were I to die to-night, 

My friends would look upon my pale, cold face, 
Lying so calm and still in death's embrace, 
And some would deem me fair, and some more 

dear 
Would kiss my pallid cheek and drop a tear; 
And they would lake my hand with tenderness 
And clasp my dead heart in their fond caress. 
Poor living heart so void and cold to-night ! 

Were I to die to-night, 

They'd not think of my selfishness or pride. 
My faults and weakness would be laid aside; 
And they would only think with loving thought 
Of kindnesses my chilly hand had wrought. 
Some kindly word these icy lips had said, 
Or willing deed on which my feet had sped. 
And I would not be all alone to-night. 

Were 1 to (he to-night, 

The tiearts so cold and faraway from me 

Would turn to me again remorsefully, 



WERE I TO DIE TO-NIGHT. o\) 

And they would gather round -to mourn and weep; 
But I would rest untroubled in my sleep, 
And they'd think kindly of me, but, unshriven 
Would vainly wish of me to be forgiven; 
But I would sleep forgiven all to night. 

I trust I'll not to-night, 

But, dear friends, do not wait till 1 am dead 
Before the words of tenderness are said; 
O say them now, for weary is the way, 
And I am weak and need your help to-day. 
Forgive me, friends, and love me now T plead. 
For when my rest is come I shall not need 
The tenderness T long to feel toniijht- 



SAILING IN THE MOONLIGHT. 

O gently do we drift upon the lake 

On whose still bosom fair and bright 
Is mirrored heaven's lesser light, 

While splendors ol the wavelets newly take ' 
Light in our wake. 

The soft breeze scarcely moves the silver tide, 
But wafts us on upon the calm. 
And breathes upon our cheeks its balm, ^ 

And leaves the gentle ripples far and wide 
On every side. 

The shore is distant, and the only sound, 
A sweet> low murmuring, we hear, 
Like dream-songs breathing in the ear. 

The great old world's asleep, and peace profound 
Is all around. 

What transformations in the fair moon beams ! 
The boat's wing turns to silver now; 
The halo round your upturned brow; 
Methinks, like some old pictured saints' ring 
gleams. 

So white it seems. 



SAILING IN THE MOONLIGHT. 61 

And in my heart a peace and calm is given 
That passeth thought as joys o'erflow. 
Can even Heavenly angels know 

Bliss more complete or holier in Heaven 
Than here this even. 



PERFECT EOVELINESS. 

The blush upon tlie cheek will fade away, 

The features change, the golden hair grow gray; 

For youth and beauty shall not always last, 

When loveliness is cast in mortal clay. 

But then il is with youth and beauty passed, 

That woman perfect loveliness attains. 

The soul in a diviner mold is cast, 

And paints a beauty that forever reigns, 

Illumining the countenance with peace 

And loveliness, and glories that increase 

And fade not as the beauty of her youth. 

The eye can never lose its blue, but grows 

In depth of thought and calm until it glows 

With deeper feeling, sympathy, and truth; 

Until it pictures on her face the whole. 

The perfect beauty of a woman's soul. 



MY FAITH. 

"What is my faith ? " you ask of me. 

'Tis not in words or creeds; 
But my faith is in faithful acts 

And earnest, noble deeds. 

It is my failh that we should make 
This earth so glad and bright 

That every heart shall thrill with joy, 
Each soul be filled with light. 

It is my faith that we should speak 
True words of hope and love 

To those who need them; and their Hnc' 
Shall be our crown above. 

It is my faith that we should be 
So true, and strong, and brave, 

That good we've done shall still live on 
When we are in the ^rave. 



CHANNING'S PICTURE, 

Channing, dear, departed saint, 

Your semblance seems to speak with me. 

Portrayed with art so masterly 

Vet all so pale and wan and faint. 

Your lineaments are cast in shade, 
As if I saw you in the twilight 
Colorless in shades of night 
Into which your features fade. 

But your eyes so deep and true 
Are filled with light, and heavenly grace 
Seems to light your calm, sweet face. 
As if your soul-light lighted you; 

And my communion thus I feel 
A very joy and good for me; 
And I could almost worship thee. 
To me you seem so good and real; 

But when I've not been true or kind 
You seem to know it; and I see 
You look so sorrowful at me. 
As if you read my very mind. 



UPLIFTS OF SOUL. 

Too often are we prisoned in ourselves, 

And seeing darkness think all things are dark. 

We look within and not without. Perhaps 

We seek to know ourselves, but we do err; 

For who would know himself must seek the light 

Of outer things, for he is mirrored in 

The eyes of others and in other hearts 

Is written what he is for him to read; 

And would he know, he- must forget himself 

And think of others, pains and joys. 

Oh it 
Is good for us to have those selfless moods, 
When we can turn from every self desire, 
Forget our own works, failure or success, 
And only feel that it is good to give 
W^hat others need, our tenderness and love; 
When we can lose all consciousness of self, 
And turn from longings, sighs and vain regrets, 
To all that's beautiful, with smile and cheer 
To help the good along; and we do feel 
The better for the lighter heart; and all 



66 TIP LIFTS OF SOVL, 

The good we do and feel becomes our own. 
To smile is better than to give without, 
To those who are the most in need, and cheer 
Is worth the charities of earth combined. 

It is not generous to keep within 
The pale of self, to think of interests 
Our own always, nor are they happiest 
Who live and labor to themselves, but they 
Who work without their natures, and who share 
The songs they sing, their cheerfulness, and selves. 
Come, let us walk apart from self where'er 
You will. 'Tis good to seek the wood and try 
To feel and share the joy of bird or squirrel, 
Until we're in full sympathy with them 
And Nature, who is ever kind and wise. 
Come, let us see the Beautiful, the works, 
The goodness, and the tenderness of God, 
Until we feel, as feel we must, that life 
Well lived and happily consists, in truth, 
In doing, feeling, being good. 

And let 
Us climb the heights of soul — the uplands of 
The spirit. Now are we more near to Heaven, 
But we will not gaze in the clear, blue sky 
That seems just o'er our heads. Lo ! all around 
Ts beautiful; and let us not look far 



VP LIFTS OF SOUL. bi 

Away, for God is near. Behold just at 
Our feet the valley. We may see the homes 
So near that we discern the occupants, 
All busy in their daily works. We see 
The farmers in their fields, children at play. 
And now and then the farmers' wives about 
Their pleasant homes. The flocks are on the hills. 
And herds are grazing in the distant vale. 

Our little selves are lost in better things; 

Our thoughts are broader and our hearts in tune; 

We see that others are, and live and love; 

We feel that all is beautiful and good, 

And now have songs to sing ourselves, and wings 

Of happiness and hope to fly above 

Our own weak natures and the darkness of 

The prison where we dwelt, to brighter fields 

Of cheer and helpfulness to human kind. 



Ct)X(^. 



A REVERIE. 

The sun was liigh and I was overcome 
With weariness from my long morning's jaunt. 
My rambles here and there had turned my steps 
A distance from my home, and now at last, 
Emerging from a thicket I dropped down 
Upon the grass beneath a friendly oak. 

All nature's grander loveliness was here; 
It seemed a temple of the living God. 
The breath of the Creator seemed to move 
Along their summits whispering; the birds 
Sang praises, and the trunks and soft, warm earth 
Were all instinct with Him. And here no sound 
Of all the busy world was heard; the cares 
And strife of human kind, the worldly thoughts, 
And pains that try the heart, were left behind. 
But here was perfect worship : everywhere 
The glory and the fullness of His power 
Was manifest, and everywhere His peace. 

My heart was overflowing and I knelt, 

And there acknowledged Him who made me, 



A REV E HI I':. 6}^ 

For I could not resist the spell and knew 

That He was near, so near that I could feel 

His presence and scarce dared to raise my eyes. 

I felt that I was all alone with God, 
And had a yearning great beyond control. 
" O Father; if 1 love Thee truly, and 

II I be only worthy, Father, give, 

'J'o nie, as Thou of old to Moses gave. 

Some sign or token of Thy care and love." 

I waited listening, but all was still; 

No vision, no reply. But far above 

The happy birds sang on; the breezes played 

Among the waving boughs; and all was calm. 

My soul was heavy and my heart grew sad. 
But while my eyes were resting on the sod, 
t saw a little violet just bloomed, 
So fresh and beautiful, so instinct with 
The mystery of life and breath of God 
That I was satisfied, and, thanking Him 
For all His tender mercies and His love, 
I rose assured that God is and is good. 



ON i\IV EIGHTEENTH BUrrHDAV. 

my youth, where are you going ? LvCaving me ? 
And ere long I shall never see you more; 

And so the little life that soon is o'er. 

1 cannot think that this is all there be, 
Else I should dread the coming end I see 
So surely, surely coming on, before 

My lips have tasted half life has in store. 
Farewell my youth, farewell my happy youth ! 
I loved you as a friend, but you must go. 
I grieve not, and I turn away to greet 
The future's promise of a fuller truth, 
Assured there is a life with'youth replete. 
Of joy and love and peace the good may know. 



HEROES. 

There have been heroines and heroes bold 
By whose courageous deeds the true and good 
Have been sustained; and brave young spirits 

stood 
But lately where the deadly thunders rolled, 
And held to duty at a cost untold, 
And bravely struggled midst the fiery flood, 
And for the Right and Country shed their blood, 
And died and lie forgotten in the mold; 
Not less, forever, front of maid and youth, 
Where victories innumerable shall be won. 
Lie stretched the battle fields of Trial and Truth, 
Where conquest of the foe is scarce begun; 
And there was never nobler hero known 
Than single handed met the world alone. 



TO LIVE IS WHAT? 

Oh, what is life ? 

Is it to be called great ? 
Is it to have a name ? 
To fill tlie chair of state 
Or win I he meed of fame ? 

Is it to dwell 

In luxury and ease, 

Be merry and grow fat 
With everything to please ? 

Refinement and all that ? 

Or life to live 

In boudoir or in bower ? 

To woo sweet boons of praise ? 
Or have a beauty's dower 

And draw the admiring gaze ? 

Life is to know 

The worth of aJLruc friend : 

To grow more wise and free : 
To see in heaven above 

Not sky and deep immensity 
Hut truth and luve. 



TO THE PESSIMIST. 

'Tis not as dark as some folks think 

In this old world of ours; 
^hey do not see the sun that shines, 

They watch the cloud that lowers. 

'Tis summer somewhere all the time 
While yet our old earth rolls, 

And gold boils o'er the cloud-cup brim 
Somewhere for happy souls. 

Each hour, each day, some parapet 

Resounds the sunset gun, 
Relieves the weary sentinel 

Whose work has been well done. 

To some sick-bed each moment comes 

The radiance of day, 
The sunset gloom, the dreaded chill 

Of darkness passed away; 

And the bewildered traveler 
Shall see, while he feels safe, 

On land or sea, in life or death, 
A Hope, a Love, a Faith. 
6 



VICTORY. 

Too long, my soul, within thyself contending, 
Thou hast forgotten what thy mission was, 

And all thy strength in this vain conflict spending 
Mid warring passions in a fruitless cause; 

Too long, O mind, hast thou been over-bearing, 
Forgetting wherefore strength was given thee, 

And yielding it to weakness and despairing 
In inner conflict with thy own decree; 

And thou, O heart, wrapped up in selfish dreaming 
And stranger to another's woe or weal, 

Too long hast lingered in a world of seeming, 
Inert to helpfulness where things are real. 

But now the long-drawn self-conflict is ended, 
And all thy impious foes at last o'erthrown. 

And thou, my better self, thy fetters rended, 
Are standing all triumphant and alone. 

And now no cause shall fear or doubt awaken, 
For thou art glorious in strength and right; 

No more thy purpose or thy faith be shaken; 
No more thy guiding truth be lost from sight. 



THE DEWDROP. 

Dear little dew-di-op sparkling bright, 
So pure and full of heaven's light : 
Tell me your secret; I would be 
All lovely, pure, and bright like thee. 

"I have no secret," the dew-drop said; 
'' I follow gladly where I'm led; 
" O'er river or ocean or grassy hill, 
*' For weal or woe I do Tlis will- 

"I cool the fevered plain and bear 
"Refreshment to the flowers there : 
"The snow-clad mountain, the vale below, 
"And the laughing brook, my mission know; 

"And when each little task is done, 
" I look up to the golden sun; 
" And clouds bear me to Him above 
"To hear the mandate of his love." 

Dear little dew-drop I Now I sec 
Obedience is victory; 
The dutiful spirit He will bless 
With love and care and tenderness. 



A GERMAN MYTH. 

To Adam gave the Lord the task 

Of naming bird and beast; 
But He Himself named all the flowers, 

The greatest and the least; 

And then He went around again, 
And asked each flower its name; 

But when He asked one little flower, 
It hung its head for shame. 

And said," Dear Lord I looked on You 
When You came near and stood, 

And I forgot my name, I felt 
To see You was so good." 

The dear Lord spoke with gentle voice, 

" My little flower forgot ? 
Well never mind the name I gave, 

0\-\\y for c[et- III e-not. 



richp:s. 

He is most poor who lives 
And labors to himself, 
Nor of his plenty gives; 
And he the wealthiest, 
Who loves and blesses most, 
Who is most loved and blessed. 



;-k^^-:b^ 



BREAK, O SEA! 

Break on your cold, grey stones, O sea, 

And billowy surges roll; 
You've caught the measure of my heart. 

The rythm of my soul. 

In vain your fond caresses fall; 

Oh, why appeal to stone ? 
Yet so my heart has poured its wealth 

Of love where love has flown: 

And so like your untiring wave. 
My heart, though sad and crossed, 

Will ever warmly beat for one; 
I still must love the lost. 

So break upon your stones, O sea ! 

And billowy surges roll; 
Beat on forever human heart; 

Be faithful, O mv soul. 



THE FOUNT. 

A fountain bubbled from the earth 

Amidst a forest's shade, 
And slowly grew a little stream 

That I'ippled through the glade; 

And all around was calm and still, 
No sound but voice of bird, 

Or rustling leaves that ovei-head 
The whispering breeze had stirred: 

And now and then the passing deer 
Paused at the fount to drink; 

The sluggish bear with heavy tread 
Stepped o'er its mossy brink. 

But now are heard the cries of war. 

And dusky foemen creep 
To the little fount to bathe their wound^ 

Or slake their thirst and sleep. 



80 THE FOUNT. 

'Tis still again, but ere long comes 
The pale-faced settler here; 

And soon his ax rings in the wood, 
And his cabin's builded near. 

The wood is long since cleared away; 

The stream is deep and wide; 
And now a city beautiful 

Reposes at its side. 

So from the gushing of a fount 
The stream and city rose; 

So from the depths of every heart, 
The man, the whole world grows. 




A CHILD'S KISS. 

A little child kissed me to-day. 

How much that gift, I pray ? 

How could I find some truthful measure 
For such a treasure ? 

Yet that small gift the child gave me 
Can measure history; 

Conducts me back to when the world began 
With savage man; 

And tells the strivings of each race 
To find its place; 

The longings, aspirations, fears, 
Of countless years; 

The hopes, loves, faiths which doubt 
Has reasoned out; 

The steady growth of man to find 
The gift of mind; 

I'he millions gone that have bequeathed 
The kiss received. 



A LUMP OF CARBON. 

Tell me, lurid lump of carbon, 

Blazing in the parlor grate, 
While the flames are twisting, turning, 

Of the primal world's estate. 

Were you once a palmy giant, 
Waving high above the world, 

Where the tropic storm-cloud's lightning 
Its electric fire-bolts hurled; 

And around your roots did waters. 

Universal waters, lave, 
While the world was all a jungle, 

Set amidst the tropic wave. 

Tell me, did some Mammoth, straying, 
Stop to graze upon your leaves. 

Or beneath your trunk reclining. 
Pass the tardy hours at ease; 

Or, perchance, a monstrous Sa)irian 
Crept up from the. neighboring sea, 



A T.VMP OF CAEBOX. 83 

Swallowing some hapless creature 
With surprising agility; 

While maybe quite near your roots 
Two Ichthyc beasts in dreadful fray, 

Meeting on the strand beneath you, 
Fought, and bled their lives away. 

Was there trace of man, O palm-corpse, 

Tn that age of yours primeval? 
Was it man or was it monkey ? 

Was there aught of good or evil? 

Tell me, lump of carbon, burning, 

Blazing, twisting in the grate; 
Picture out the by-gone ages, 

And their wondrous tales relate. 




A LESSON TN GEOLOGY. 

We sat upon the sunny sands 
And passed the time away, 

She talking of the ages past. 
[ thinking of the day. 

She held a stone for me to name, 
Her hand how fair a setting ! 

I only saw the calm, blue eyes, 
The stone and name forgetting. 

She pensive talked of this and that. 
Feldspar or quartz, what mattered, 

Her words I heard and listened well, 
But ever poorly answered; 

And so the time passed fast away; 

The afternoon soon wasted; 
We looked upon the waves but once, 

And then we homeward hasted. 

That face demure, those eyes of blue, 
They'll haunt me ever, ever, 

Until again perhaps some day 
We'll seek the sands together. 



SCIENCE. 

Hail, Mother of Wisdom, and Teacher of the 

World ! 
True sister of Religion and of Art, 
And moving spirit of them both ! What works 
Her hands have made for us since time began ! 
What influences given to mold and shape 
The course of nations, and the lives and thoughts 
Of men! And all has been as free as Heaven. 
O vScience, patient, loving, thoughtful, true ! 

Her voice is heard around the rolling earth, 

And underneath the sea from land to land, 

In tones more clear and wonderful, and on 

An instrument more grand than other yet 

The world has known — the great Aeolian harp 

Of continents, whose chords respond to winds 

Of many shores, and call the rocks and trees 

Around to hear, like Orpheus of old. 

With swiftness of electric flash she speaks. 

Annihilating time and space, to all 

The world; and nations gather round to hear 



86 SCfENCE. 

The happenings of every shore and clime. 

Low requiems are followed by the songs 

Of gladness, mourners' wails by sounds of joy. 

Her voice is heard before the storm, and tells 

The East of tempest in the West; the South 

Of winds that come from off the Nt»rLhern bergs, 

But she delights in singing airs of peace, 

And shuns the deep-toned thunder-notes of war. 

She stands before the couch of suffering Pain 
In tender ministry, and gives the draught 
That cools the fever and brings life anew 
To one who lingers on the brink of death. 
The mangled form that tosses in despair, 
She soothes with odor of the ether that 
She holds within the phial in her hand; 
And when the brain is lulled in slumber, and 
The eye-lids locked in dreamless sleep, she pricks 
The source of pain and drains the agony. 

Her iron messengers haste to her will 
Upon a thousand tracks of ringing steel, 
That, like a network, intersect the land; 
And with a steady pulse their iron hearts, 
Tireless as time and sleepless as the sun. 
Propel the living world from place to place, 
And make two states the measure of a day, 
And markets for her countless works afar 



SCIENCE. 87 

In distant cities. So her steamers ply 
The great highway of ocean, and unite 
The New World to the Old, at her command. 
The Avhite wings of her commerce fill the sea 
To do her bidding, and she guides them back 
Across the trackless deep to native ports. 

And she herself the servant is of man. 

And in her skillful, ready hands is laid 

The measure of his every need and want. 

Fair Science ! Thou art, as the younger sister, 

The Cinderella of ungrateful man, 

And thou still patiently toil on for him, 

Unrecognized, while all the praise due thee 

Is lavished on thy sisters, dressed in robes 

Of finer aspect. But the time shall come 

When man shall learn thy truer worth, and thovi 

Shalt stand revealed more lovely than are they. 



CONSCIOUSNESS. 

For me the glory of the noon-day light, 
The starry spaces in the tranquil sky, 
The pleasant vales, the mountains tow' ring high, 
The flower, the brook, the lark in airy height, 
The silent grandeur of the peaceful night, 
The earth and vast Creation far and nigh. 
All things are for me, yet how small am I ! 
Oh, not so small if I shalt think aright ! 

For immensities I hold in conscious thought, 
To them no power these countless years have 
brought 
To feel so small a thing as I. Oh, less 
Their years than my one moment's consciousness ! 
Their grandeur's lost beside the living soul 
That in its consciousness reigns o'er the whole. 



^-^HgyX*- 



BLMORrALlTV. 

At morning when I gaze upon the sun 

Arising in the firmament for me, 

And all the glories of the earth, and see 
The wonders of Creation one by one 
That Ciod has made to serve our life begun, 

I know they perish not. Is Death for me 

Who holds the earth's and sky's immensity 
In consciousness and thought, while tliey live on 

Unmeasured years without the force to feel ? 

Is mind than they less worthy or less real ? 
Is life, the greater, lost in death, the less ? 

I know that it can never so befall. 
That souls shall lose their crown of consciousness. 

And matter reign dumb victor over all. 



THE PEARL. 

Far down in the depths of its ocean home 

A little oyster lay; 
And clung to a rock in the coral grove 

With its homely shell of gray. 

Around it sported many a form, 
With lightsome grace and free; 

And many a quiet day it ope'd 
Its shell to the great, warm sea; 

But it felt one day a sudden thrill 

Of pain in its little cell, 
For a grain of sand had found its way 

Within its opened shell; 

But it set to work as well as it could 

To repair the secret wooind, 
And lo ! in the homely shell one day 

A priceless pearl was found. 

So may the sorrows that come to us 

With life's resistless hurl, 
^n the wo'unded heart or chastened soul 

Help us to make a pearl. 



ARTEMIS. 

Goddess of the silent night, 

Queen and huntress, chaste and fair. 
In thy car of gleaming light 

Coursing through the stilly air, 
We entreat thy beams so bright, 
Goddess of the silent night. 

Lay aside thy pearly bow 

And thy crystal gleaming dart; 

Cease the chase of flying doe 
And the hunting of the hart: 

Hesperus entreats thy light, 

Goddess of the silent night. 

Now the sun is gone to rest, 
And the earth is cast in shade; 

Rest upon his darksome breast. 
Thou who day of night has made; 

Give us of thy wondrous light, 

Goddess of the silent night. 



DAY-DREAMS. 

By the window sits a maiden, 'tis the dreamy 

month of June, 
Thinking, sewing, sewing, thinking, all the weary 

afternoon; 

And her head of brown is bended to her needle 

and her thread; 
And a thrush is rapt in singing on the elm bough 
- overhead; 

But she does not mind her sewing or the thrush's 

raptured lay, 
For she dreams as I am dreaming, and her 

thoughts are far away. 

Far away her prince is coming, fine and noble 

his degree; 
He will woo her for his princess, and they'll live 

beside the sea. 



DAY-DREAMS. 93 

Not like princes told in stories is the prince who 

comes to woo; 
They were fair or rich or courtly; he is brave and 

good and true. 

He's a nobler prince than they and heir to man- 
hood's fair estate; 

He may have no lands or castles, but his heart 
will make him great. 

He may have no gold and treasures; though his 

mind be all his wealth, 
Needless were the world's possessions in the 

fullness of himself. 

He has courage of the lion, he is strong in mind 

and heart, 
But his gentleness and tenderness are all the 

better part; 

And he's loyal in his loving; and she'll love him 

over well; 
And forever in contentedness beside the sea 

they'll dwell. 



A ROSE. 

A dried and withered thing, you say, 

As homely as there grows; 
Yet sacred is it in my heart, 

The dried and faded rose. 

The memory of boyhood days 

Is all to me a dream, 
Until remembrancer like this 

Makes real what only seem. 

One Christmas night she pinned it on, 

A friend I called her then; 
My heart throbbed as it throbs to-night; 

O God, it might have been ! 

We loved as two young lovers do, 
Through happy youth together; 

'Hie rose is sacred for her sake. 
As love is love forever. 



TO MY PORTRAIT. 

I've finished you, cold, speechless thing, 
Unconscious, breathless — yet with power; 

For round me hapless feelings cling 
That were unknown before this hour. 

And tears will come when you I see 

So life-like — very counterpart; 
But what can tears and sorrows be 

To you, cold thing without a heari. 

An ever calm and thoughtful look 
Upon your placid brow you wear; 

Your smile unchanged suggests to one 
You never knew the weight of care. 

A little while my life is passed, 
And then begone this earthly clay; 

But you will smile on and will last 
Long years when I am passed awav. 

But this, perhaps 'tis, makes me sad 

Whenever you I chance to see; 
That they will view you and be glad, 

And will not grieve, or think of me. 



BRYANT. 

True poet of the pure liearl's noisiest strain, 

Of our bright constellation still the best, 

Bryant, the greater Milton of the West. - 

IC'er loyal to his muse, at Nature's fane 

He hymns the cheering truth, the calm refrain, 

That calls the pilgrim to the wood to rest, 

Revives the latent music in his breast, 

And kindles at God's altar love again. 

Priest of the Universal God ! He leads 

The soul apart from worldly cares and strife. 

And ope's the book of nature where it reads 

The revelations of serener life. 

Until new wings of hope and faith are given 

The communing spirit to fly still nearer Heaven, 



■""•^-^ 



EMERSON. 

1 see him now, ihe poet, prophet, seer, 

As from our Concord Delphi's fane released, 

He comes, its mystic and its chosen priest, 

By any other name a friend as dear. 

He bears the Brahmin race-marks — welcome 

here — 
The thin, slight form, the sharpened features 

creased 
By nightly toil and frugal fare; but list ! 
He speaks with chosen words that find the ear 
Well pleased with the effluence of his tongue 
Where in the nealm of thought sweet truths are 

sung. 
Our own Prometheus, so sweetly wise, 
Who draws the gift of wisdom from the skies: 
As one the fire from Heaven drew, this one, 
The light of understanding- — Emersox. 



SHELLEY. 

The fate the world reserves for him whose soul 

Is far too honest for hypocrisy 

Was yours, Shelley, and long, long shall be 

Hereafter for those who fail the credulous goal. 

Vou faults were eminent, but fine the whole. 

And sprang from courage and fidelity; 

For in your heart you hated tyranny 

And superstition in whatever role; 

Your sensitiveness and your courage one 

Yielded to hatred for injustice done; 

But triumphing, that finer spirit grew 

Still nearer the conception of the True, 

And gave its heart-effluence in a song 

That vindicates a nature fine and strong. 



TO F. R. H. 

Like waters gushing from the rock, 
Sparkling, pure, and free, 

So seems the flowing of your verse, 
The over- soul in thee; 

Translated spirit, written song, 

That is not mind or art. 
The full refulgence of your faith 

Deep founded in your heart. 

Yet while I read I think of you 
As nobler than your thought, 

A strength, a heart, a soul, beyond 
The work that you have wrought. 



POETRY IN SCIENCE. 

O tell me not the scientific eye 

Sees poetry nor beauty in the forms 

Which it delights to contemplate ! Nor say 

Who knows not truth the scientist has learned 

As well as he the measure of delight 

Can find in common things. 

The world around 
To one unlearned but in full sympathy 
With Nature and her all pervading lieart 
Is grand, mysterious, or beautiful. 
The devotee of Nature raptured hangs 
Upon the distant vista with its vales, 
Its winding threads of silver, and its hills. 
The glossy lake is fair to look upon 
In sunset glory or at morning dawn; 
And on its calm, still bosom oft he thinks 
Of what may be more beautiful but not 
On earth, and led by pleasant fancies, dreams 
Of pictures far more beautiful than those 
He sees upon ilie fading sliores, or in 



POETBY IN SCIENCE. 101 

The tinted twilight of the restful even; 

And in the wood the simple minded folk 

May still be raised to heights of soul and mind 

In which they feel the grandeur of the world 

More nearly and the Beautiful in all. 

But to the scientist the tiniest blade 

Of grass, the dew-drop, and ihe pebble bring 

Associated pictures visibly 

Before him, such as the untutored eye 

Might never dream; and in those common things, 

That paint no picture to the passing glance, 

Are revelations to the scientist 

Tneft'able. 

To him the drop of dew 
Is not less beautiful because he knows 
The hidden secret of its beauty in 
The laws of light, nor yet less wonderful 
Because he knows the forces and the laws 
Which brought it into being and maintain 
Its wounded symmetry. Nor does he view 
With less of admiration or regard 
The little flower that speaks the love of God 
To him more surely than the tongue of man; 
And think you that the pebbled beach to him 
Has lost its beauty ? Or the pebble there 
Because it gained a tongue ? That homely stone 



102 FOE TRY JX SCIENCE. 

Suggests a world evolved from shapeless seas 

Of fire, and made a universal wave; 

And this can tell of wild undream'd of things, 

Of life that lived and died in what to us 

A- strange world were indeed. This fossil shell 

Bespeaks the mysteries of our young earth, 

So great, so hidden, and so passing strange, 

Until the past is flooded with the light. 

And all those thousand scenes revealed to him: 

And this ribbed rock tells of the glacial sea 

That rolled its frozen billows mile on mile 

Above a cold creation long ago, 

Until came man in milder times to learn. 

To one 'tis but a pebble, but to him 

A world of thought. 

And so these common things 
That pass unnoticed are to him new worlds 
Of beauty and of truth. In each small drop 
Of water is a sea pregnant with life; 
The tender blade, bespeaks to him all life; 
And in the flower he sees the universe. 



SEVEN TO-DAY. 

Seven to-day are you, bright little youth ? 
Happy you are, too, if I know the truth. 
Brown-haired and barefooted, straw hat all torn. 
But wearing the cheeriest smile that is worn. 
The hope of your father, your mother's delight — 
I know by your blue eyes, I'm speaking aright; 
And now you are reaping the harvest of joy; 
I know it, for I once like you was a boy; 
And I played as you play, but never again. 
For sorrow and care are the pleasures of men. 
And too soon our boyhood forever is lost 
In the world where our hopes oft are hopelessly 

crossed. 
'Tis the seed-time and June-time of life to be 

sure. 
But the plant needs the sunshine of youth to 

mature, 
And the happiest, blithest of boys long ago 
Are the strongest and truest men that we know. 
We want no precocity learned and young 



104 SEVEN TO-DAY. 

Nor wisdom that's lisped on the infantine tongue; 
But give us the boys who have grown day by day 
In the fresh air and sunshine in Nature's own way. 
They are stronger and wiser and better by far, 
And when men are in need we know where they 

are; 
P'or the men in demand and the men in control 
Are the men strong and healthy in body and soul, 
And the vigorous mind, the one that is sought. 
Is the mind that the strong happy boyhood has 

brought ; 
So be happy my dear little seven year old 
While you may, ere the story of boyhood is told. 



TO OUR MOTHERS. 

Daughters of America, to you 

The praises of a free-born people rise; 

And in your love and care and courage true 

The fount of patriotism to renew, 

Tlie dearest hope of future greatness lies. 

Our wars, please, (iod, are o'er. Let that be so. 
But brave defenders she will ever need; 

And great, strong-hearted, thoughtful men should 
grow . 

Within and not without we'll find the foe, 
And triumphing our legions you shall lead. 

Vet teach them manhood and each manly art. 

Contentment, gentleness, the faith you learned: 
So shall some great and noble impulse start. 
Born of the mind or fullness of the heart 

Where slumbering genius else had vainly 
burned. 



106 TO OUR MOTHERS. 

Like that Cornelia, let your jewels be 

Your sons and daughters; teach them noble 
aims ; 
Inspire with aspirations of the free : 
So shall your lives be spent most worthily, 

And honors shed their lustre 'round your names. 



>!^S37-^' 



AMERICA. 

America, my heart goes out to thee 
In exukation for my righteous pride. 
What other land shall be or can be blessed 
With all the gifts thy God has given thee ! 
The noblest fruitage of old Time thou art, 
The proudest work of man, and richest gift 
Of earth. The best of nations that have lived 
Transmitted thee the best that lived in them. 
And thou art all and more than they have been. 
The noblest things of Greece, the greater Rome, 
And powers that lived before and after gave 
Thee light, and now thy light is over all. 
And thou of all lands, greatest, happiest, best; 
And now thy whole extent from the white sands 
Of the Atlantic to the golden West 
And the Pacific seas is one fair land. 
One fruitful garden Everywhere the sounds 
Of busy men, and everywhere is peace. 
The teeming P^ast and sunny South rejoice. 
The North an- 1 West are homes of liapi.iuess. 



i08 AM K me A. 

Earth yields its countless riches — wealth untolct 
In mine and soil and stream and field and heaven. 
Abundance, harmony, and joy are thine, 
And over all the sun of Promise shines. 

But best of all \vhat men and women thine ! 

What hearts and hands in those old early days [ 

What purposes and strength of will, gave us 

This happy land of peace, America, 

And what a sacrifice maintained it whole ! 

Oh let us not revert to those old times, 

For they are past and dead ! And may no more 

The storm cloud rise or the avenging sword 

Be drawn, but if it be. Oh then be it 

America against a common foe. 

(_>' youths and maidens ! you shall bear the trust 
Your fathers and your mothers leave to you : 
America will soon be in your hands. 
And you will hold its fate, for one by one 
They drop away who guard its liberties. 
And ere long you will find yourselves alone. 



TO MEMORV. 

Come Wonder-worker ! Lead me on. I yield 
All other claims for thine — the nearest one — 
And willingly I walk the ways I love, 
For thou wilt lead me through the silent years 
Back to my happy, cloudless youth again. 

I seem to sink a thousand leagues beneath 

The sea of consciousness as in a dream, 

While on my vision floods of golden light 

Bear all the mellow pictures of the past 

In full life tints and radiance of rose. 

I see the faces that were loved, and heaj; 

The accents of a once familiar voice, 

-Still breathing benedictions in my ears. 

I clasp a gentle hand in mine once more 

That thrills me even as it used to thrill, 

And gaze in deep blue eyes that meet my own. 

With thee I wander through the pleasant vales 
My feet have trod before, and climb the heights 
Of every youthful dream. T linger once again 



110 TO MEMORY. 

In my old haunts of boyliood where I passed 
So many happy hours. I stroll beside 
The brooklet where 1 used to lie upon 
The grassy bank for hours and meditate; 
I live a happy schoolboy's life again; 
And pass to other times when hopes rose high 
With youthful aspirations bright and fair; 
And once again I walk the Ijeach and in 
The wood in company with boyish lo\'e. 

Thus as of old I wander and inhale 

In hallowed thought the fragrance of the flowers 

That perished and affections that are dead. 

Oh this is hardest ! Yet I'd not forego 

A single scene, and hand in hand with thee, 

Through tears and sunshine let me tread the way, 

The old familiar lanes with banks of green. 

The ways beloved beneath the skies of blue, 

Between my early childhood's home and me. 



TEACHlNCrS OF N.VrURK. 

All nature is a revelation to 
The mind of every race, and all can read 
The great essentials there — nor can they miss 
The teachings. To each mind alike the same 
Great truths are spoken, and they can but listen; 
For everywhere is seen, is heard, is felt, 
Beyond the power of willing all His truths, 
And they impress themselves upon the mind 
With greater power than words or human speech. 
The Seasons change to teach men gratitude, 
To mark the lapse of lime that else had passed 
Unrecognized and fruitlessly. The Spring 
Gives promise of the Resurrection and 
The Life, and e'en its tiniest blade of grass 
Is bridge across the sea of doubt on which 
The trusting feet may tread without a fear. 
Then comes the Summer with its lesson, too, 
Of God's great care and tenderness and love, 
And in the sycamore the wren and mate 
Declare it as they percli above tlieir nest 



112 TEACHINGS OF NATURE. 

And sing. The linnet and the oriole 

Attest by day; the nightingale at night 

When all is calm and tranquil. Autumn comes 

With ample stores to teach His goodness, and 

The Winter teaches us necessity. 

The lender flowers that grow in wood or field. 

The violet and the anemone 

And all their gentle sisterhood, talk of 

Humility and peace and love, and they 

Are vocal in their silence, speaking to 

The dullest ears The dew, that falls unseen 

At eventide to kiss the earth and flowers, 

Bespeaks true charity that gives nor seeks 

Reward; the forest trees, that interlock 

Their boughs so lovingly, are emblems of 

Fraternity, and as the grateful flower 

Receives their shade so should the weak receive 

Our sympathy and help; the rugged oak, 

That stands upon the mountain's brow and bears 

The bitter blast and rage of elements. 

Exhorts us loudly to have courage when 

We meet the ills of life; the little stream. 

The herds and flocks that graze the pleasant vales, 

The summer breeze that fans the fevered cheek. 

Teach helpful ministry and love. 



The cloud, 
That floats on fleecy wings above, and sheds 
Her tears upon the earth, speaks mercy; and 
The bow, that spans the heavens, when the sua 
Comes out and rain-drops laugh through tears, 
Is promise of a hope, and bends to kiss 
The earth in token of His love and care. 
The breeze that strays along the summits of 
l"he forest tree is whispering — " Forgive." 
The sun declares the thoughtfulness and power 
Of God, and teaches us to search for truth. 
The moon awakes and walks the silent night 
In chaste white robes among Lhe virgin stars, 
And as she walks, holds converse with the earth 
Of holiness and purity and good. 

All things have tongues to speak : the placid lake. 
The angry sea, the thunder flaw, the brook. 
The sunshine, but they all repeat, "Love God." 
*' Love God,'" the heavens whisper to the earth, 
And all the earth responds, " Love God, Love 
God.*' 



WISCONSIN. 

Wisconsin ! Land of lakelets and of streams ! 
No lovelier landscape meets the traveler's eye, 
Than sight of her green hills and pleasant fields, 
Her prairies, stretching far away to meet 
The blue of the arched sky, or forest belts, 
Whose grateful shade keeps moist her virgin soil, 
And hides the loveliness of fair wood-flowers. 

There Labor sows with industry, and reaps 
His sure reward. Her billowy fields of grain 
Responsive more to breezes on whose wings 
Is borne the freshness of her temperate air. 
They drink her gentle showers and ere long 
Are touched to golden in her sunshine. Then 
The cheerful harvester is seen, and soon 
The garners in their fullness glow, and breathe 
Their sweet perfumes; and Peace and Plenty 
reign. 



wiscoNsm. IIT) 

And tliere humanity in her pure air 

Invigorating all the springs of life, 

Is touched to finest issues of the mind 

And heart. The native strength and force of old, 

Like her own beautiful estates, is there. 

With great hearts living out their liberties 

In happiness and in content; and there 

Are youths whose eyes shine brightly with the 

gloM- 
Of aspiration, and there, maidens with 
The bloom of health upon their cheeks. 

How fair 
The broad Wisconsin, bearing on its breast 
The lovely dalles, and which the Algonquins called 
"The gathering of waters." In old lands 
Less free but not more fair were streams that 

flowed 
Through history and pi-aised in fuller verse. 
That cleft old empires into twain or set 
The bounds of kingdoms. Yet the Bacchic 

Rhine, 
That revels in its vine-clad hills, or Seine, 
That through inconstant France pursues its way, 
Is not more beautiful. The picturesque 
St. Croix amidst its pineries and the 
Oconto with its silver falls and the 



IKi WISCONSth\ 

Meiiomonee are Ijeautiful not less 

Because they are not sung; nor are her lakes-, 

The Winnebago with its cliffs and plains, 

The deep, clear waters of Geneva with 

Its wooded, gravelly shores, the charming two 

Score lakelets of Oconomowoc, the glens 

And cliffs and emex-ald waters of Green Lake, 

Or rustic Elkhart with its wooded drift 

Of knolls and kettles; and there are yet streams 

And lakelets fair as these through all her wide 

Extent. Green Bay, as it reposes midst 

Its rocky battlements and wooded plains, 

Its bosom gemmed with isles, is beautiful. 

And oceanic Michigan sublime. 

Wisconsin, thou art beautiful indeed. 
And happy are thy homes; and I have learned 
To love the simplest flower that grows beside 
The road, and turn with bond of sympathy 
My heart toward the little brook, or oak 
Whose life is rooted in the mossy bank; 
And ofttimes in my childhood's simple heartj 
In some beloved retreat where Nature filled 
My soul with awe and wondering delight, 
Imagined Eden was not half so fair. 



THE GLACIia<. 

Von glacier with its huge moraines heaped up 

And fearful crevasses, a crystal stream 

Of blue and green that daily, hourly creeps 

With steady and continuous advance, 

Is beautiful — -sublimely beautiful. 

How slow but irresistible its course ! 

Down through the valley year by year and inch 

By inch the vast ice-river flows, and on 

Thi'ough field, and meadow, forest, hill, and 

plain. 
Destroying villages, all unconstrained, 
And unconstrainable; and yet how like 
Tlie life of man. From Heaven descended it 
Takes on its mold and conformation from 
The secret womb of mountains whence it springs-. 
At first its coiiform soft and ductile yields 
To every molding force, but soonacquires 
A character and firmness of its own; 
And an inevitable destiny 
Impels it on its course. Constricted l>y 



118 THE GLACIER. 

The crosses and the inequalities 

(Jf its appointed way, by barriers 

Impassable that fix the limits of 

Its mighty energies hedged in, it still 

Pursues its course, seamed with the many scar: 

Of mighty conflicts, groaning but resigned 

To fate, and all the while though wasted is 

Renewed by unseen potency. Upon 

Its surface rest the spoils the progi'ess of 

Existence has acquired and made its own — 

Oft weighty burdens void of excellence 

Of beauty or of worth, a precious mass 

At times with goodly ores and sparkling gems 

That dazzle wiJ;h their loveliness. At length, 

Its greatest magnitude and power attained. 

Commanding admiration for its strength 

And splendor, waste predominates and soon 

The vital springs begin to fail; it stoops 

And in decrepit attitude resigns 

Its burdens one by one, and hastens on 

To dissolution; but, resolved into 

Its elements, it takes a freer form. 

And clearer, purer. From the feeble wreck 

Leaps forth the noble river, and 

Rejoicing hastens through the fertile vales, 

And joins the ocean of the infinite. 



TO THE IMMORTFT.LK. 

The lily pure reigns but n dav 
Before if droops and fades away, 
The petals of the perfect rose 
Are scattered even while it blows, 
But thou, sweet emblem of the truth, 
Doth flourish in eternal youth. 
Thy purity doth never f^.de, 
But in thy spotless white arrayed 
Thou seem'st fitly and full well 
The flower of virtue, immortelle. 



AN EXTKACr. 

To the one who never felt home in its sweetness, 
A home, and a true one, in all its completeness, 
There is lost, be he great-man or rich-man or 

what, 
A happiness, blessedness, which, though 'tis 

sought 
In substitute pleasvires, never on earth 
Is found but about the warm, family hearth. 
And the true home is found in many a guise; 
None so poor or so lowly but where it may rise; 
Nor so splendid a dwelling where home may be 

not. 
Whatever condition or varied the lot, 
In covintry or village, in city or where. 
Be there home-hearts and home-loves the home- 
life is there. 
Oh, happy the man whose childhood's abode 
Was a home, a true home, where the mother-love 

flowed 
Like a pure vernal spring to enrich the young root. 
And train up the manhood to bear goodly fruit ! 



AN KX7EACT. 121 

And happy the nation whose homes are its boast. 

In the van of all nations, the nation foremost ! 

'Tis the key-note of progress, the nation's estate. 

America's title to fortune or fate; 

And as the home lives unsullied and pure, 

So long shall its greatness and glory endure. 

But the lack of the true home — there lies the 

prime cause 
That fires human hearts to transgression of laws. 
The felon and righteous were born much the 

same; 
In the home, or the lack of it — there was the 

blame; 
For by chance, more than merit, a soul becomes 

low. 
Because no good home gave it fortune to grow. 
Had the murderer had but my mother, and I 
The mother who left him to sin and to die, 
Had he lived in my home and I in his den, 
In his squalor and wretchedness, reader, what 

then ? 

All reform is within, and the social disease 
Must be cured at the root — in the home, if you 

please, 
And not by enactments to brook or restrahi 
By law or by license the festering bane. 
9 



122 AN EXTBACT. 

Oh, could we have homes but for one generation, 
That home-life should breed us a different nation ! 
But there at the last must the cure be applied, 
\\1ien all other specifics have been laid aside; 
And when homes shall have mothers more wise 

— there's the need — 
To keep fire on the home-altar burning, and feed 
The heart-soul and mind-soul of young growing 

life, 
Then will end the prime evils with which we are 

rife. 




THE SUICIDE. 

youth ! You should not thus be lying here. 
That noble brow, that form, was born to live, 

And not so soon to grace the funeral bier, 
Where they will weep, but hardly can forgive. 

What mad, rash impulse urged you on to this. 
Before you knew life's meaning or its way ? 

The world shall never know. A mother's kiss, 
Perhaps a maiden's tear, and clay to clay. 

Yet, wondering, oft I've seen him as he'd pass 
To seek his wonted haunt beside the brook, 

Where, in the noontide, stretched upon the grass, 
He'd watch the clouds or pore upon his book. 

1 marked the melancholy on his brow. 

His drooping spirit and his moistened eye; 
I might have been his friend, but not till now 
Could T believe the vouth had thought to die: 



124 THE SUICIDE. 

And so from cares, unshared or hopeless love, 
Or doubt, or grief, without a friend to save, 

He craved surcease of sorrow from above. 
And thought to find it in the welcome grave. 

And yet, unhappy youth, the nobler part 
Were to have overcome the ills of life, 

And fought the battle of the brave, true heart, 
Despairing not in whatsoever strife. 



ON THE NATION'S BIRTHDAY. 

Oh, country ours, America ! 

How beautiful you stand ! 
And fairer, dearer, each birthday, 

Our own, our native land ! 

What harmony, what happiness. 

And fullness everywhere ! 
A thousand joys the people bless 

Who breathe of Freedom's air. 

Let freemen everywhere rejoice. 
And song and praise arise; 

For all as one in heart and voice, 
Our liberties we prise. 

May sons defend and daughters make 

It ever worth defending; 
So shall the nation's God forsake 

Nor glories have an ending. 



AN UNFORTUNATE. 

Found in Chicago, 

A suicide, dead; 
Raise her up tenderly, 

Lift up her head. 
Beautiful, beautiful, 

Even in death ! 
Oh, why so rashly 

Wearied of breath ! 
Read what she's written 

Addressed to her friend. 
Oh, man's wickedness ! 

Where will it end ! 
Ruined, forsaken, 

Heart-broken there, 
Perished with laudanum, 

Wild with despair. 
Weak she was, surely, 

Trusting man's heart. 
Seduced by his cunning, 

Deceived by his art. 



AN UNFORTUNATE. 127 

Beseeching, imploring, 

Her honor to save, 
She loved, but all vainly 

And sought the dark grave. 
Ruined the woman, 

But not so the man, 
So the world says; 

Believe it, who can ! 
O God ! in thy judgment 

Thus will it be ? 
Wait, despicable 

Man, and see. 
ir'ure and womanly, 

All that remains of her. 
Let no one think of the 

Madness and stains of her. 
Gather together the 

Tresses of hair; 
Close the blue eyes 

Forever on care; 
Fold her white hands 

Over her breast, 
And lay her in Graoeland 

Kindly to rest. 



rHE FRIENDS. 

Pythias and Damon 

Were friends both fast and true, 
As noble youths as any 

The Syracusans knew; 
I)Ut the Syracusan tyrant, 

Dionysius, 
Condemned one of the friends to death, 

The noble Pythias; 

And Pythias of the tyrant 

Besought a short delay, 
And craved of him permission 

To go home but for a day; 
For Pythias' own sister 

Would on the morrow wed, 
And Pythias desired to see 

Her once again, he said. 

The tyrant granted him the day. 

But Damon was held bound 
As hostage for the penalty 

Should not his friend come 'round; 



rHU pniENDs. 129 

And Pythias went homeward 

lo pass his short respite, 
A.nd passed the wood and stream and reached 

His father's home ere night. 

At last his stay was over; 

His sister was a bride; 
He set out from his father's house 

And reached the river's side, 
V)\\\. the river now was swollen 

With rain the night before, 
And when he could not pass the stream 

His mind was troubled sore. 

"Alas ! " he cried, "What shall T do? 

I cannot reach the town." 
He waited till the afternoon, 

But the stream did not go down. 
" 'Tis late and I must save my friend. 

If only this can save ! " 
He said, and plunged into the stream. 

And struggled with the wave. 

The river's tide was raging. 

Both strong and deep and wide; 

But with the strength of ten he reached, 
At last the other side; 



130 THE PRIENDS. 

And dragged himself exhaustedj 

Onward with all his might 
To reach the town and save his friend. 

Before the shades of night. 

He passed along till in the wood 

He met a robber band; 
But stopped not he for the robbers three. 

Nor heeded their command; 
But fought and slew them with his sword^ 

The robbers one by one, 
And hurried on his weary limbs 

Before the setting sun. 

He reached the town of Syracuse 

As Damon was led out, 
But ere a single hair was touched 

They heard Pythias' shout; 
And Dionysius marvelled so 

Such faithful friends to see. 
He straightway pardoned Pythias 

And asked they be made three. 

And now their names are by- words 
For friendship true and tried, 

Where life is but a paltry thing. 
The friendship trust beside. 



THE FRIENDS. l3l 

And Pythias and Damon 

Live yet in tale and song, 
And in the hearts of friends as dear 

Whose friendship is as strong. 



THE COLISEUM. 

This is the work of Rome — imperial Rome^ 
Built in her days of pride, and still enduresj 
Of Rome the type of grandeur and decay^ 
The majesty, the monarch of all ruins. 
The golden house of Nero is no more. 
Nor now the Fotum, where of old was heard 
The voice of Cicero, but here still stands 
The Coliseum, stately, beautiful. 

Here ruinous walls and broken arches rise 

In one stupendous mass of masonry. 

Like Hebrew Babel to the vault of heaven; 

But o'er the pavement once the purple swept 

Now slips the gleaming lizard, and where swarmed 

The mighty population of great Rome, 

Her pride and power and wealth, now flourishes 

Unmoved, the lichen and the weed. 

O Rome ! 
O Rome ! How art thou fallen ! Yet thou art^ 
As is thy Coliseum, beautiful 
In ruin, grand in thy decay. 



THE COLISEUM. 133 

What life 
Was here that is not ! Here, where once the heart 
Of mighty Rome throbbed in its fullest pulse, 
We tread, but silently, and gaze upon 
Its moldered walls and lonely passages 
With what a sense of awe. P'or here the heart 
Of Rome embalmed itself, and in this ruin 
We live the centuries of Rome in hours 
Of present time. 

Kind nature here has healed 
The wounds of years with grass and moss and 

weed, 
And in the shade of ruined arches bloom 
A thousand flowei-s, while on the arches' crests 
The cypress grows and twines its roots in ruins. 
The air is thronged with twittering swallows, and 
As in imperial times, recalling them, 
An eagle in the sky above, with wings 
Wide-spread, sails motionless along. 

And now 
The sunset splendor fires the lofty walls, 
And like huge blocks of brown and massive gold 
The travertine returns the western glow. 
The flowers drink in the glory and appear 
As gems in setting of the crust of stone, 



134 THE CO/JSEUM. 

While far above the rose-red clouds depend, 

And through the shadowed arches flash the bars 

Of molten crimson from the western sky. 

But now the shadow of the westward wall 

Creeps slowly through the stadium, and soon 

The twilight draws its veil across the sky; 

The molten clouds grow cool and pale to gray; 

The shadows deepen o'er the galleries, 

And shroud the arches and their rude decay; 

And while you gaze, the vast circumference 

Is thronged with myriad human forms. 

You feel the cruel excitement of their eyes 

As they gaze down, and hear beyond the hum 

Of voices, the wild roar of beasts confined 

Below. You are a gladiator, here 

To die to grace a Roman holiday, 

Or Christian martyr waiting for the beasts 

That soon shall rend your limbs. 

As from a dream 
You wake. The stars are forth and twinkle 

through 
The shapeless rents of ruin, and along 
The summits of the broken arches wave 
Tall cypresses against the blue midnight. 
As they were shadowed on the far horizon. 
The swift-winged bat flits past, and from 



THE COLISEUM. 135 

The Cesar's ruin comes the owl's long cry, 
Where all is desolation. Through the ways 
And hundred lonely arches streams the light — 
Pure, soft, and lambent, yet distinct and clear, 
(3f distant moon, as though at once to cheer 
And to reveal the mighty ruin. 

Now 
The rugged desolation softens down, 
And in the mellow light 'tis beautiful. 
But from the summit of the Esquiline 
The convent bell peals out, and brings once more 
The mind to consciousness of modern Rome; 
And then you see the mighty pile no more 
Made beautiful by fancy and romance. 
But as a vast and lasting monument 
To the glory and the infamy of Rome. 



REUNION AT GETTYSBURG. 

July 2 and 3, 1887. 

The sun looks down on Gettysburg, 
Where once more blue and gi-ay 

Upon that old historic ground 
Are gathered in array. 

The bayonets flash, and hark ! the peal 

Of infantry is heard, 
But in the gray breast and the blue 

No enmity is stirred; 

And borne amid the ranks of gi'ay 

Our starry banner see : 
Alike the serried ranks rejoice 

In glad fraternity. 

The field that twenty-four years past 

Was red with human strife 
Now consecrates to harmony 

The nation's strength and life. 



REUNION AT GETTYSBURG. 13' 

Oh, let old hatreds be forgot ! 

They perished with their cause, 
And one united land enjoys 

Its freedom and its laws. 

The God of nations gave to us 

His purpose to fulfill; 
Perchance the not less noble South 

Had well performed His will. 

But bravely, when in dark despair 
Their ruined homes they sought, 

They set to work, their wrong confessed. 
And bore their heavy lot. 

Redeemed the desolated South, 

And beautiful she stands; 
The North and South walk hand in hand, 

The happiest of lands; 

And while all honor's due the North, 

My birthplace and my pride, 
I glory in her sons in blue, 

'But love the South beside. 

The nation's magnanimity 
Is greater than its wrontj-, 



138 REUNION AT GETTYSBURG 



And now its millions with acclai 
Rejoice that it is strong. 



m 



Upon this spot Oh let there rise 

A monument to mark 
Where fury quenched has ushered in 

True friendship's vital spark ! 

And pointing upward shall its shaft 

Call God to seal the deed, 
That countrymen shall gird their swords 

But for their country's need. 



^x^ 



TO MRS. C. 

Do you recall that evening, friend, 

When you and I together 
Went rowing on Mendota lake ? 

And pleasant was the weather. 

The setting sun was fair to see, 

But dearer still and fairer 
Those evening shades that night in June, 

The evening twilight rarer. 

No ripple moved the silver lake; 

No sound disturbed the breezes; 
But just a murmuring afar, 

As where the earthly ceases. 

The singing of some happy maid- 
Came through the silence stealing, 

The limpid drip of distant oars, 
A wavy, dream-like feeling. 

We floated on the perfect calm 
W^ith care nor aught to threaten; 

I felt what I could not express, 

You whispered, "This is Heaven." 



RETRIBUTION. 

Though the clouds be e'er so darkly 

Drifting o'er the way, 
Every cloud must yield to sunshine, 

Every Night to Day. 

Retribution, though it lingers 

Far beyond the sight, 
Will at last reward him double 

Who endures the fight. 



GLORY. 

" No Jean, my Pauline must be," 

The old pensioner said, 
"A soldier's bride, for only such 

A soldier's child should wed; 
Yet Jean I like you well, and when 

You'll bring to me a sign 
Of service from some valorous field. 

My Pauline shall be thine." 

" But how will she be happier, 

Or love me more to know 
That I have caused a mother's tears. 

Or brought some young wife woe ? 
Or how shall I be kinder, 

Or care for her the more, 
When I'm returned from deeds of blood 

And scenes of carnage o'er? " 

**No Jean, you shall not talk thus, 

For all my blood and name 
Have with their good right-hand and s^\•ord 

Won proud and lasting fame; 



142 GLORY. 

And he who wins my daughter's hand 

Must go where glory lies. 
Go on, my son, to victory. 

And Pauline be the prize." 

The young man left the pensioner, 

But with a heavy heart; 
He passed the porch and garden path 

Where Pauline stood apart; 
He clasped her hand and kissed her cheek 

" Pauline, I'm going away; 
But do not grieve for me," he said, 

" But wait some future day; " 

"And if I come not back again, 

Remember Jean was true; 
And if I fall upon the field, 

Pauline, 'tis all for you." 
The maiden read his bloodless cheek : 

She knew it all and more; 
She spoke no word but clung to him, 

For her heart was aching sore. 



Napoleon with his legions, 

Of France the pride and boast. 

Pressed hard upon the Russians, 
And hard the Austrian host; 



GLORY. 143 



And flying on before him, 

The Austrian army lay 
Within Vienna's fortresses 

At closing of the day. 

At Lintz the legions halted, 

At 1 .intz upon the Rhine, 
Awaiting slow battalions 

To come forward into line; 
And the chief was at his quarters 

With Lannes and Murat, 
Who waited for the emperor's word 

To move on Vienna, 
When from his thought and writing 

He paused to catch a word 
From one outside who with Murat 

In hot dispute he heaixl. 

*' Marechal, let the boy come in; " 

And, when the lad was near, 
The august emperor questioned ; 

" My boy, what seek you here ? " 
The lad's blue eye was fearless; 

His voice was firm but low : 
" I seek for glory, sire," he said. 
Napoleon smiled as he answered : 

" You have not far to go." 



144 GLORY. 

To Brunn the Austrian emperor 

Withdrew, and left to hold 
The great bridge o'er the Danube, 

Which 'tween their forces rolled. 
The brigade of Anersburg, 

Whose batteries looked down 
Upon the bridge and river's tide 

From heights above the town; 

And they had laid the structure 

With mine and powder train 
To blow it up, should once the foe 

Its guarded passage gain; 
But all unknowing, on they come 

In line and bright array, 
Until the flower of France is there 

With Murat and Lannes. 

They overwhelm the vanguard; 

They throng the great bridge- way; 
And countless bayonets flash and shine. 
As they charge above the hidden mine 

Where death and destruction stay. 
A flash of flame shines brightly, 

But it vanishes again; 
And the Austrian host with bated breath 
Await in vain the work of death. 

And the shock which never came. 



GLOliY. 145 



For from the ranks of sappers, 

The first to see the flame, 
A youth leaped from the parapet, 

Extmguishing the train. 
They charged the battery and found 

Vienna at their feet, 
And soon after at Austerlitz 

Their victory was complete. 



" Whom have we here ? " Napoleon 

Inquired of the white -robed nun 
Who waited on a sufferer 

At the hospital of Reygun. 
"The one who saved the bridge at Lintz,' 

She said, as the great chief scanned 
The features of the wounded youth, 

And laid on the head his hand; 

" And are you not the one," he said, 

W^ho sought for glory ? " — '' Sire," 
The pale-faced youth responded 

While his bright eyes flashed with fire 
" 'Twas I that sought for glory, 

But I sought it for Pauline," — 
"Then live, my boy, to show her this," 

The emperor said to Jean, 



146 QLORY. 

And he took the cross of the Legion, 
That hung from his own breast, 

And pinned it on Jean's bosom, 
x\s the sufferer lay at rest. 

'Tis Jean once more with Pauline, 

For she met him at the door; 
And she was worn with waiting, 

And he tired and footsore; 
And there was the old pensioner, 

Who long had grieved Jean's loss; 
And now his sight had failed him. 

Nor did he see Jean's cross; 

And he in his age and blindness 

Had often sighed for Jean, 
And often thought of his last proud words, 

And his drooping flower, Pauline; 
And his voice is full of trembling, 

And full his sightless eyes. 
As Jean directs the old man's hand 

Where the Cross of the Legion lies. 

*'Now, father, have I come," he said 

To claim Pauline, but not 
By right of a wife's or a mother's tears 

Or the orphan's heavy lot; 



GLORT. 



147 



Far my hands are free from the crimes of war, 

And my sword is still unstained, 
But the Cross of the Legion of Honor is mine. 

And my Pauline is fairly gained." 



WILL. 

What force is Will ? 'Tis not the force of flesh, 

But has its divine origin in Soul, 

And flourishes for good. From conscience sprung 

On conscience does it feed, and conscience strong 

Is at the root of every noble will. 

It is the measure of the spiritual 

In man — the highest test of good in him. 

Through it the passions — ■ aye most sacred love — ■ 

The worst, the best of them, that link the mind 

To matter, come to be the gushing founts 

That bear the living waters to the roots 

Of the tree spiritual, and ensoul the man. 

How vain are conscience, thought, or love, 

without 
This Will to turn them into conduct and 
Translate them into deeds ? No noble thought 
Has birth and lives to honor of the man. 
But with the will to spur the intellect. 
And hold it firm upon its heavenly quest. 
In spite of dou.bt and disadvantage, through 



WILL. U9 

Discouragement and unpropitious fate; 
It still persists in seeking beauty in 
Things ugly, and compels the world to yield 
The spirit sunshine from the riven clouds, 
Our guiding angel, servant, savior, friend, 
Who helps us on to Heaven in the path 
By doing- souls pursued. 

Strong and sublime, 
The spirituality of Fenelon 
And Channing, yet the stronger spirit lived 
In Howard or in Florence Nightingale, 
Whose wills were strong as their hearts good and 

true. 
In plain, prosaic Washington reposed 
A strength of spiritual force that far outweighed 
The preacher or the prophet of his time. 
Through all the years he wrestled with his foe — 
The greater one, discouragement and want — 
His purpose never weakened, and his will, 
Calm, strong, and resolute, was Victory. 

And here we look for triumph of the soul. 

And here we place our hope in growing man. 

Not in the wasted, scattered, mobile mass 

Is victory, but in the close phalanx 

With firm and ordered tread and strong resolve. 

Then on, O .steadfast Will, from height to height 

Of spirit to the victory of the soul. 



THE FIRST BASS-RELIEF. 

In a little shop in iVthens 

A potter turned his wheel, 
And cheerfully day after day 
He molded wares of potter's clay 

To earn his humble meal; 

But his heart was well contented, 

As he turned and formed the clay, 
While his daughter with a happy smile 
Stood by and looked or helped the while, 
Or trilled a merry lay; 

And she picked the wild hedge roses 

And sold to whom would buy. 
And she ranged the white- rowed earthenwares, 
Or bethought herself of her father's cares 

And some new design to try; 

And well might he be happy. 

For she was good as fair; 
And it was said 'twas her sweet face 
And skillful hands that charm'd the place, 

And brought the buyers there. 



THE FIRST BASS-RELIEF. 151 

Perhaps so thought Antenor, 

A handsome Grecian youth, 
Who often lingered at the door 
To price a vase, or buy a flower, 

Or watch him work forsooth. 

I only know he went there, 

And that he loved the maid, 
But soon was called upon to go 
And march against a foreign foe 

And serve in his country's aid. 

But on the eve of going 

Before he bade farewell, 
The potter's daughter Amymon 
Her lover's likeness sketched upon 

The wall where his shadow fell; 

And the rude outline, her father, 

To do his little part. 
Filled in with plastic clay and made 
A bass-relief of the outlined shade, 

And so began an art. 

The potter Dibutades, 

His daughter, and her lover, 
Were all forgotten long ago. 
But Art sprang from the relievo, 

And hearts beat on as ever. 



THE WINE-CUP. 

Young Lycius became the king of Ci-ele, 
A prince of goodly parts, discreet withal, 
Who promised much, but he unwisely formed 
The love for wine, and left the cares of state 
Forgotten, while with young friends at his court 
He passed the day and night in reveling. 

His old instructor, Philocles, one day 

Thus found him and reproached him bitterly : 

"O Lycius, is this the way I taught? 

Thou art a king and should not thus be found 

Inebriate and wasting hours away 

In dissipation, while thy rule and state 

Lie unattended and forgot." 

The young man only laughed and joined again 
His mad companions in their song and jest, 
But Philocles again entreated him : 
"The state requires it, Lycius. Thou art 
A king to serve as well as rule, and know- 
That thou art bound by every interest 



THE WINE-CUP. 153 

Of thy fair state whose safety lies in thee. 
But if this fail, let manhood voice its claim. 
Rise, rise, and put away the wine-cup, take 
Thy dignity and manliness again, 
And be the man the more that thou art king." 

The young king felt the sharp rebuke and said : 
'* Remember, Philocles, I am no moi-e 
Thy pupil. Now I am thy king, and I 
Am answerable to the gods alone 
For what I do." 

Then Philocles replied : 
"And I. speak from the gods that what you most 
Do love shall by the wine-cup die," and turned 
To leave the king, but Lycius enraged 
Threw at his head the wine-cup. Streaming red, 
The wine like blood was scattered, but the cup 
Missed Philocles and struck the court below. 

A woman's cry rang out upon his ears, 

A mother's scream for her child stricken dead, 

For Lycius had slain it with the cup; 

x\nd Lycius knew the cry : It was his wife's. 

O miserable Lycius, 'tis thine ! 

U 



TO THE VENUS ACCROUPIE. 

Of all that now remains of marble Greece 
There is none other can compare with thee, 
Thou rarely human Venus Accroupie, 
Some sculptor called thee his proud masterpiece, 
Nor vainly gave thee life when his should cease. 
'Tis not that thou art beautiful; to me 
Thy passing charm is thy humanity, 
Though mutilate, instinct in every crease, 
Life, living, loving, breathing in each line. 
The human reached beyond the unreal divine 
Thy fairer sisters figured, but the form 
Of Grecian womanhood instinct and warm. 
Like some Pigmalion waiting for the art 
That should awake thy tender, loving heart. 



THE LITTLE CLOUD. 

At eventide I saw a little cloud, 

A little silver cloud at eventide, 

That sailed toward the West with moveless wings 

Outstretched and paly as a dove, and said : 

" Ah joy was mine; the livelong day he bathed 
" Me in his beams, he bathed me in his beams; 
"And over pleasant vales I floated free; 
" And fell my happy shadow like a dream, 

" O kiss my lips again, my pallid lips, 
" And bring the morning's rosy blush again ! 
" O take me to your arms before you go, 
" Before T meh away in tears and mist ! " 

And while she spoke she changed her pallid hue, 
And glowed as flame — a shining wreath of flame 
That dimmed the lustre of the evening star. 
But Oh, she faded slowly as she went. 

She faded slowly till she was as white 

As snow and cold and colorless as death; 

And from the East a cool Avind came and breathed 

Upon her, and she disappeared in mist. 



TO COWPER, 

Poor spirit ! You were out of tune 
With all the world; your intellect 

Was strong and good, but all too soon 
Your finer nature your defect. 

So fine an instrument your heart, 
Which only one had learned to play, 

Unused so long and laid 'apart; 

What under that you were not gay ! 

I read your story and for you 

I felt and dropped a silent tear; 
I know your heart was warm and true 
By what your mind has left me here. 

Kindred spirits — Shelley, Poe, 

Like you shall not be judged to-day. 

How strong, how weak, we cannot know. 
Perhaps we err — and who shall say ? 



IN A WOOD. 

Oh, v/ell I remember when last I was here, 

For you were here with me; 'twas Spring of the 

year. 
The arbutus bloomed and the violets then; 
And the nests were a building of linnet and wren; 
And our hearts were beating, as young hearts will 

beat. 
With none of the bitter and all of the sweet; 
And here on this bank in the forest's still shade 
"We read the sweet tale of the Arcadie maid, 
Nor even 1 dream'd in my happiness then 
That I'd be here nov*? when the flowers came 

again 
To drink of the cup of sorrow alone. 
The dregs that remained when the sweetness was 

gone. 
<3h, wotild you were here once again as before 
With all the past joys of our youth to live o'er, 
The false words forgetting, the true ones renew — 
S&at now 'tis too late,, too late to be true. 



APRIL RAIN, 

A score of white-winged swimmers 

Are in the April sky; 
And floating hither, thither, 

You chase them with your eye; 

And soon a little bevy 

In company are seen; 
And streaks of gray are stretching' 

Across the fields of green; 

And drifting slowly over, 

The clouds come one by one^ 

And gently drop their burdens 
A laughing in the sun. 

The pools are full and dancing;; 

The flowers are happy too; 
And every petal glistens 

And drips with crystal dew. 

The eaves laugh with their bounty; 

The cattle linger still. 
And crop the new-come verdure 

Upon the rain-kissed hill. 



APRIL RAIN. 159 



And in the little cottage 

Childhood is pleased to hear 

'The patter of the merry drops 
That greet its eager ear. 

But now the sun is shining; 

And in the East appears 
The bow of promise, smiling 

Through April's easy tears. 



THE LITTLE RAIN-DROP. 

(WRITTEX FOR A CHILD, WHO WISHED ME TO 
WRITE SOMETHING ALL FOR HER.) 

" Dear little rain-drop ! How came you here ? " 
Questioned a child as out of the sky 
Fell a bright drop on a leaf near by. 

Answered the rain-drop, "I'll tell you, my dear.' 

" Far in the forest I sprang from the ground, 
"Joined with my sisters a bright, purling stream, 
" And day after day with a merry sunbeam 

" Danced to the brooklet's rippling sound; 

"Then, when pebbles and brook-flowers were 
passed, 
" Speeding along on the current's drift, 
"Borne on the river swift and more swift, 

" Found ourselves lost in the ocean at last; 

" But there the sunbeam I played with before 
" Knew me and gave me wings to fly 
" Up to a beautiful cloud in the sky 

"Where I imagined my wanderings o'erj 



THE LITTLE ttAtN-DROP. 161 

" But soon, while folded in the sunbeam's caress j 
"Cool breezes whispered to me to go 
" Down to the thirsty earth below; 

"And I came down from the sky to bless." 

" Dear little rain-drop ! I know why you're here. 
" You came from Our Heavenly Father above, 
" Bearing a message to me of His love." 

Answered the rain-di'op, "That's why, my dear.'' 



^^=^^- 



INFLUENCE OF NATURE. 

*' O world as God has made it ! All is beauty : 
And knowing this is love, and love is dutyy 

— Browning, 

There is a voice in nature to the heart 

Transcending other voices. And it speaks 

How differently ! Yet it always brings 

Pursuasion to the soul if one but hears. 

What wonder that the simpler mind 

Of days gone by imagined spirits in 

The streams and vi^oods, and heard a deity, 

That spoke to them from rock or sea or sky ! 

What wonder that the Druid v^'as inspired 

With awe when he beheld the majesty 

Of mighty o?.,ks beside whose ancient trunks 

He stood and felt his insignificance, 

And heard above him whisperings so strange 

They thrilled his soul and moved his mind to 

think 
'Twas very God. 



jNfi'LirENcF: of natVee, IBS 

And God does speak to uSj 
Not only in the venerable oak, 
Whose limbs are arched so far above our heads^ 
And midst whose leaves and on whose summits 

stray 
The breezes and the mystery, but in 
The sweet wood-flower that grows beside its rootj 
For He delights in nature and we find 
Him there always. x\nd Nature is, indeed, 
The vaster temple of the living God, 
Whose presence 'tis that speaks to us, when we 
Commune with Him in mountain, wood, or seai 
And Oh, the revelation ! Hand in hand 
We w^alk with Him, and all is clear. We feel 
His gi-eat unchanging love, and every doubt 
Or fear is gone. Confiding faith alone 
Remains and peace of mind ineffable. 
We learn — • what is so hard to learn — to lovd 
Our Father for Himself, with all our heart 
And soul and mind. We feel that he is near. 
And who can feel His nearness and not love ? 

An April morning how well I recall. 

When but a child and all untaught, I felt 

The first intimation in my heart of God. 

It was advanced in Spring, and the great sun 

Was shining full of warmth and life, while here 



164 INFLUENCE OF NATVkE. 

The last snow-banks were wasting, thei'e thd 

grass 
feegan to show a tender blade, and in 
The leafless oaks I heard with joy the first 
Glad voices of the birds returned. They sang 
So full of happiness and joy and cheer ! 
It seemed as if all nature caught the strain, 
And joined in one glad song of praise, and I 
Could not resist the influence and felt 
My heart in harmony and beating fast. 
Before God was a name, but then I felt 
What I can not describe. I only know- 
God was no name, and then 1 worshipped Him 
The first time in my life and felt in me 
A fulness I had never felt before. 
And often since within the shady wood 
Beneath the roof of interwoven boughs 
That over-arched my head, and midst the calm 
And quiet all unbroken save by sound 
Of breezes playing in the leaves, have I 
Communed with him; and He has never seemed 
So kind in any other place, so full 
Of love and tenderness. 

Yet I have heard 
Him in the wild confusion of the waves, 
And I have felt him as I gazed upon 



INFLUENCE OF NATURE. 1 05 

The trackless waters stretching far beyond 

The limits of the eye— have felt his care 

As tenderly to rest on me as even 

It broods upon the silent deep. All things 

In nature are instinct with Him, the moist, 

Cool earth so full of life and even the 

Sweet flower with scented breath and form 

So delicate. All nature tells of Him, 

And there shall we find answer to all things. 

The tiniest grass-blade springing from the sod 

Assures my mind there is a future Life; 

The opening bud, the cloud that floats above me, 

Tell me that God is and is Good. The wing 

Of bird, the pebble, the tinted leaf of Autumn, 

The violet that smiles in early Spring, 

Are messengers unto my soul, and speak 

Of goodness, beauty, and eternal truth. 

Oh, there have been times when I've been so far 
Away from Him that all seemed dark and drear, 
And living in myself apart have groped 
About in darkness and despair. But I 
Have turned away from my worse self, and walked 
With thee, O Nature, who have led me on 
Through scenes of beauty, showing me this flower, 
That brook, or pleasant vale, from height to 
height 



166 INFLUENCE OF NATURE, 

Of cheer and hope and love and faith anew, 
Until my slow blood bounded free again, 
And I could laugh or weep for very joy. 

But Oh, how various the attitudes 

Of Nature to the mind. When I have seen 

The angry sea ai-oused, and threatening 

x\lmost to burst apart its fetters and o'erwhelm 

The land with all its mighty force; or when 

From heaven the deep-toned thunders crashed, 

And the storm with wind and lightning raged high, 

And rugged oaks were torn up by their roots 

Or riven by an instant flash of fire; 

Or when the whirlwind irresistible 

Swept over cities and left them in ruins; — 

With what a sense of awe I've gazed upon 

These scenes and felt my helplessness 

And my dependence on the care of God. 

Oh, from these mightier manifestations of 

Thy power spare us and ours, and let us walk 

Secure in Thy serener moods to learn 

Of Thy great mercies and Thy care and love ; 

And by the running brook, or in the wood, 

Or in the meadow sweet with flowers and Thy 

Sunshine, let us be taught Thy providence; 

Let us commune with Thee in meetly love. 



INFLUENCE OF NATURE. 167 

Oh, sometimes 1 have been on lofty mounts 

Of spirit in Thy high places, where I 

Could gaze upon the life of man as I 

Would view the valley far away and far 

Beneath the eye; and I have looked upon 

The mysteries of Heaven in the night, 

And seen in space a thousand systems like 

Our OM^i with suns and moons, a thousand orbs 

And thousands yet beyond outmeasuring 

Our own, and in my mind have thought of them 

As throbbing with a life like ours; and I 

Have almost felt the strange desire, when I 

Have gazed upon these scenes, to cast myself 

Into immensity, to mingle with 

The earth from whence I sprung; for I have 

seemed 
So lost in vastness, so o'erwhelmed with thought 
Of the immeasurable, that I have almost longed 
To lose myself in dissolution, and 
Have doubted even God could have a care 
Or thought for me; but when the morning sun 
Rose clear and bright and warm, and all the birds 
Were singing praises, and I rose refreshed 
From sleep to breathe the morning air so pure 
And full of sweetness; when I saw each blade 
Of grass remembered by the dew, each flower 
Opened that closed at night and beautiful 



168 INFLUENCE OF NATURE. 

For me; Oh, 1 felt glad, for I was sure 
The tiniest heart of bird that tried to praise, 
The simplest floweret, the most worthless thing, 
Was still rememV^ered, and the more was I. 
For the great sun was shining still for me. 
Placed there by Him; for nie the birds sang, and 
For me the flower shed its sweet perfume; 
And surely He remembered and had care 
For those whom He created most like Him. 

And when again in sweet tranquility 

The evening comes, and Nature ieels His calm 

And restful peace, the human heart rests too 

In peace that passeth understanding. Or 

Upon the placid lake, when all things rest 

And all is silent but the liquid dip 

Of oars or sound in distance almost lost, 

Upon its bosom floating it shall seem 

Almost like Heaven. 

Oh, is there anything 
In this wide world more strange, or anything 
More wonderful in worlds unknown, 
Than Nature's influence upon our life ? 
Where'er we go, in open field or wood. 
Upon the mountain, liy the sea or brook, 



INFLUh'XChJ OF NATURE. 169 

We find her there, and we are thrilled with touch 
Too delicate for words to tell, and feel 
An ecstacy we cannot speak. O world 
All beautiful ! 'Tis knowing this that draws 
The heart to what is good and true, and this 
Is love — the highest love — the love of God. 



12 



A FRAGMENT. 

Oh, what is man 
That he should be endowed by God with powers 
Of mind and soul and heart so Godlike ! Yet 
How does he glorify his Maker, or 
How does he not, who in His image made 
Is so imperfect in his ways ! 

And is 
There growth ? Shall ages find humanity 
With mind as strong and heart and soul as pure 
As is its due from its high parentage ? 
The promise is full sweet. I like to think 
That ages hence by nurture and by growth, 
By fuller light, by wisdom, truth, and love, 
The man-soul shall ascend from height to height 
Of aspiration, longing, action, good, . 
Led by the care and tenderness of God, 
Till he shall worthily be called, in truth, 
The son of God. 



A FBAGMENT. 171 

What imperfections now 
We have we all do know and feel too well. 
Diseases of the mind and soul affect 
The race — Oh, not possessions, let me hope, 
But voids still unillumed by healing light — 
That yet breed passions, crimes, contentions, wars. 
The promise is that what were greater now 
Are growing less. Yet slowly, slowiy, Oh, 
So. slowly ! But in the scales of judgment place 
The virtues of the past in balance with 
Those of the present and ours shall outweigh 
The past by every heart-throb, every love. 
By every doubt and struggle of the mind. 
By all the true and good and beautiful 
That has been in the growing life of man. 



THE MONTHS. 

The whole year as the seasons change, O God, 
Are but the different aspects of thy love, 
Wliich ever is the same; and through it all 
The same great wisdom, care, and love prevail. 
'Tis ushered in in darkness; and the day 
And night are strong with equal reign. The air 
Is sharp, and cold, and clear; the earth as white 
As an unwritten page, and frost-flowers bloom 
Upon the window pane and on the brook, 
\Vh>>se laugh is hushed and spirit still; the lake 
Is draped in white samite or silver robes, 
But all is cold; and underneath, its pulse 
Is faint and slow as beats a new-born babe's, 
For 'tis the pulse of Mew-year; but ere long 
It shall be strong. Why is the earth so white ? 
It is as though the past were all effaced, 
And all the earth were spread an open leaf 
For records of the new-born year. 

Old sounds 
Are silent in the dreary forest, for 
The leaves that sighed and wooed the breezes of 



THE MONTHS. ]73 

The year before are underneath the snow, 

The insects dead, and old nesis tenantless, 

And infant January slumbers now. 

While while and tranquil over all the snow 

Lies in its newness and its purity, 

The virgin robe of the unspotted year. 

But now 'tis February, and the day 

Gains on the night, but yet the strife of heat 

And cold is scarce conrinenced. The North 

winds come 
From regions of perpetual ice, and through 
The forests of frost-cracking boughs resound 
The wild, wierd cries of Northern bergs and ice- 
Resounding oceans. Wild storms rage, and all 
The elements join in the conflict, yet 
As February wanes the silent work 
Begins. The earth is yet enveloped in 
Its frosty covering, but is not dead; 
And now the sun has left the tropic of 
The Souih, and moves upon its Northward way, 
And whispers in the noontide words of hope 
To every sleeping seed and root beneath 
The snow, and promises deliverance. 
Some morning finds the earth all sparkling bright 
With myriad jewels. From every tree and shrub 
Flash countless diamonds that bend down the 

boufifhs 



174 THE MONTHS. 

With very weight, and 'tis a crystal world, 

Whose beauty is beyond description wlien 

From every gem the sun's rays scintillate. 

But still the storms cry out. The close frost lock 

Is opened by the smiling day, but night 

Shuts up the earth again in icy gyves. 

Yet in the constant strife 1 )arkness and Cold 

Are wearied and still weaker grow; and now 

The conflict rages wilder, and young March 

Comes whistling like a boy; but victory 

Is gained. 

Now come those long, slow rains that sap 
The icy fortresses of Winter, and 
The snow upon the hill at last forsakes 
Its long retreat to swell the mountain brook 
That bounds along so happy and so fiee. 
The pools fling up their icy cerements; 
The sullen ice, retreating from the fields. 
Seeks refuge from the sun behind the rock 
Or fence concealed in shadow; day by day 
Come gentle thaws that we can only trace 
By stained snow-banks that shrink before the sun^ 
Or by the quiet drip of cottage eaves; 
And soon the whole world is awake again. 

There coiiies the voice of migratory birds,. 
Their tiny throats a warbling their joy 



THK MONTHS. l75 

So loud and glad all nature joins the song, 

And everything sings praises unto Him. 

Now from the debris of last year's decay, 

On knolls and banks that face the South and East 

The first green blades lift u]) their tiny heads 

And speak to me of an immortal hope — 

Of resurrection and of life. The frail 

Anemone and blushing arbutus 

Peep out from sunny slopes and from the wood; 

And come the moist, warm days, when in the air 

Is breathed the smell of soil; and on the slopes 

Of Northern hills are wasting fast away 

The shrunken skeletons of ice. The buds 

Upon the lilacs swell and burst; the elms 

Fling down their dingy flowers; the crimson 

bloom 
Of maples lie upon the ground; and all 
Creation wears a smile. 

The oriole 
Adjusts his hammock on some favored bough; 
The sparrows fly in twos; and martins scold; 
And April comes, when brooks run full like young 
Hearts overflow, and showers drop easily. 
Like shadows upon innocence the clouds 
Float in the sky, and gently come the showers 
Mid sunshine, like so many tears of joy, 



176 THE MONTHS. 

And daintily the drops fall to the earth 

Upon the glistening flowers and new-come grass. 

The dandelions like so many stars 

Are blossoming; the wild-cherry lifts up 

Its tremulous, white fingers from the hedge; 

And in the woods the modest violet 

Is bowing its fair head. 

But April is 
The month of singing. In the mighty oaks, 
That now begin to show their grayish tufts, 
Ere long to turn to waxen leaves, the birds 
Sing in full chorus. All their little hearts 
Are full of rapture and they sing of cheer; 
And happy Robin in his quest for food 
Hops in the furrows that the farmer ploughs. 

Now May, the flower-month, blossoms every- 
where. 
She searches out the cold, resentful nooks. 
Where lingering snows had long refused the sun. 
And even there spring up the sweet wild- flowers. 
And hearts bloom loo. Ihe maiden and the 

youth 
Are touched to finer feeling as they walk 
Together in the field or wood and cull 
The flowers: the young heart bounds to mighty 
truths 



THE MONTHS. 17? 

When in the atmosphere of love; and now 
All things are beauty, tenderness, and love; 
And even Nature seems in love with God. 
The air is soft and balmy with the breeze, 
That from the West wafts flowery odors; now 
The forests smile again in green; and all 
God's largess seems in fair profusion spread, 
While transport touches every spring of life. 
The running brooks that laugh and dance along 
So merrily, the gladsome rills that leap 
From stone to stone, the rustling foliage, 
The sea-shore, and the dainty little flower. 
And every form of nature voice His praise 
Gr wear His smile; and heart and sense are joy. 

Fair June advances, radiant with smiles 
And gay with fruits and flowers. The genial sun 
Illumines with its first, bright morning rays 
The Northern slopes, while yet the glistening dew 
Is on the grass blade and the flower. The wings 
Of breezes bear sweet perfumes; and the air 
Is full of sweetness, mild and calm as of 
Sabean Araby. The forests sing 
Sweet symphonies of zephyrs and of birds 
That lull to sleep, while every where is rest. 
But ever now and then like mighty birds 
The storm clouds spread their wings and fly 



178 tirK MONTHS. 

From the horizon to the zenith, till 

With thunders and with flash of heavenly fire 

The rain descends upon the grateful fields; 

And then the flowers laugh amidst their tears 

For joy, the thirsty fields drink in their fill. 

The air is freshened, and all things rejoice. 

For this is Nature in her plentitude. 

When earth shows all its treasure, and in all 

God lives and speaks. For He is where the wood 

Casts its soft shade of interwoven boughs 

Upon the grassy carpet; He is where 

The little brook ripples upon its stones, 

Or on the bosom of the placid lake; 

And every flower and tree His presence claims; 

And He is in the heavens when at night 

We gaze upon their wondrous lights; and He 

Is on the tranquil earth. 

iSut noW July 
Has come and turned the temperate heats of June 
To glowing breaths of fire. But it is well, 
For there are hidden things in life that are 
Not known till fire reveals them, and the earth 
Shall bring forth to the uttermost the wealth 
That it contains when tried by fire. The vines 
Hang down their lender tendrils, flowers droop^ 



THE MoNTrts. lT9 

And even the maize that finds delight in heat 
Is rolled and withered; but thou cans't not de- 
stroy 
What frost and ice could not. 

The fields of graiil 
Are touched to golden now in July's sun, 
And soon will be the harvest. August comes, 
The glowing ripeness of the year. The fierce 
Sun blazes in the heavens and outstares 
The strongest flower that dares to look at him, 
But he shall not destroy* The hidden works 
And all the deep unreached places are found 
By x\ugust's glowing hands. Upon the bough 
The apples hanging feel the touch, and blush 
A rosy red; the grapes upon the vines. 
Which droop with weight of them, are kissed and 

shall 
Respond with sweetness; and the yellow grain 
Is ready for the harvest. How beautiful 
The rye, the rustling oats and billowy wheat ! 
And now the lazy herds plash in the sedge; 
Fish seek the deeper pools; the forest fowl 
Lead out their young to newer haunts, and now 
The huntsman seeks the stubble. The cicada 
Is chirping like a rattle, and the air 



180 77/^' MONTHS. 

Is resonant with insect orchestras. 
The lizard passes swiftly o'er the rough 
Stone wall and stares at you. 

The sun 
Has triumphed over all, but leaves at night 
The dew to pity the hot earth; and now 
September, month of secret work, is come. 
The sultry heat has passed away, and now 
Delicious coolness at the eventide 
Succeeds the genial warmth of day. The earth 
Swells with increase; the yellow corn peeps 

ill rough 
Its blanching husks; but still the forest stands 
In dress of undecayed magnificence. 
And trees put forth their darkest foliage, 
Half hiding, half revealing ripened fruit, 
As if to tempt the appetite of man. 
The winds, that run along the summits of 
The trees, hardly disturb the silence of 
The shade beneath; the rivulets flow on 
As noiselessly; and 'tis the heart's month, too, 
When all affections ripen, and the world 
Is dear and beautiful as when in June. 

But now October comes and bends the boughs 
To earth with mellow fruit. The apples drop 
In stillest hours; the seeds are ripe; and leaves 



THE MONTHS. 181 

Let go and waver to the earth without 

A sound and when the winds are ^till. Anon 

Stiff breezes come; and then the yellow leaves 

Are scattered on the ground to mingle with 

More gorgeous tints of maple and of ash. 

The woods grow thinner, and above the clear 

Blue sky looks down. It is the time of long 

And sunny calms; and now the sunsets come 

In wonderful magnificence of light 

And color, brilliant harmonies of tint 

Of gold, vermeil, and orange, and the dye 

Of Tyre, that slowly settle down at last 

Into transparent twilight that veils all 

The russet hills and fields in tranquil shade. 

It is the golden month; the earth yields up 

Its riches, and the garners fill with wealth . 

November comes with resignation, and 

Waits patiently until the end, for life 

Is now accomplished. All is done, 

And she is thankful and content. The heart 

Is mellow now, and all things silently 

Thank God from hearts too fnll for utterance 

For all His goodness and His care. 

Yet still 
The Indian summer lingers. These are days 
To meditate, for they, too, speak of Ood. 



182 THE MONTHS. 

Soon mes^eugers at night come to prepare 
The earth for burial, and with hoar-frosts 
They deck her bosom. All the fair, young 

flowers 
Are drooping and are dying one by one. 
So die the beautiful and good. Come, thou, 
December, bury them; through the still air 
Fling round them slumbrous snows, and muffle 

all 
The trees with thy cold garments; bury all 
The year has known, and let the watchful stars, 
That shine so brightly on thy frosty nights. 
Look down upon the stilly, clear, cold world. 
But Oh, it is not death, for there is life 
In death: and know that in the midst of death 
Like this was born the Resurrection and the Life. 
'Tis life, 'tis love and life the entire year. 



IMDEX. 



Pane, 

9 

13 



Amok I Supplex, 

Hope, - - . 

To A Virtuous Young Lady, - 15 

Eventide, - - . - 17 

To IN Her Seventeenth Year, 18 

Friendship and Love, - - - 19 

Communion, - - . . 20 

To the C. L. S. C, - - - 21 

Religion, - - . . 22 

L' ALLEGRO, - - - - 23 

A Greek Lover's Monody, - 25 

October, - - - . - 32 

To Dr. Holland, - - 33 

My Katie, - - . - 34 

Verses to "Pass Under the Rod," 37' 

Hadley Wood, - - . - 40 

Compensation, - - - 48 

How? - - - . - 49 

Woman, .... ^q 



LOT iiyutiiJi.- 


Page. 


Channing, 


54 


Master, 


55 


Worship, - - . . 


- 56 


Tell Me So Sometimes, 


57 


Were 1 to Die To-Night, 


- 58 


In the Moonlight, - 


60 


Perfect Loveliness, 


62 


My Faith, - . . . 


63 


Channing's Picture, 


- 64 


Uplifts of Soul, 


65 


A Reverie, 


68 


On My Eighteenth Birthday, 


70 


Heroes, . . . - 


71 


To Live is What? - 


72 


To the Pessimist, 


73 


Victory, . . . . 


74 


The Dew-Drop, - 


- 75 


A German Myth, 


76 


Riches, .... 


- 77 


Break, Sea ! - - ■ 


78 


The Fount, 


79 


A Child's Kiss, 


81 


A Lump of Carbon, 


- 82 


A T,ksson in Geology, 


84 


Science, - . - . 


- 85 


Consciousness, 


88 


Immortality, 


- 89 



INDEX. 


185 




Page. 


The Pearl, . . - - 


90 


Artemis, - - - - 


- 91 


Day-Dreams, - - - - 


92 


A Rose. . - - - 


94 


To My Portrait, 


95 


Bryant, . - - - 


- 96 


Emerson, . - . . 


97 


Sheeley, . - - . 


- 9« 


To F. R. H., . - - 


99 


Poetry in Science, 


100 


Seven To- Day, 


103 


To Our Mothers, 


- 105 


America, 


107 


To Memory, 


109 


Teachings of Nature, 


III 


Wisconsin, 


- 114 


The Glacier, 


127 


To the Immortelle, 


119 


An Extract, 


120 


The Suicide, 


- 123 


On the Nation's One Hundred 


and 


Eleventh Birthday, 


125 


An Unfortunate, 


- 126 


The IFriends, 


128 


The Coliseum, 


- 132 


Reunion at Gettysburg, - 


136 


13 





186 INDEX. 

To Mrs. C, 

Retribution, 

Glory, - - . . 

Will, . - 

The First Bass- Relief, - - 150 

The Wine-Cup, 

To the Venus Accroupie, 

The Little Cloud, - - - 155 

To COWPER, - - - - 156 

In a Wood, - - - . 157 

April Rain, - - - - 158 

The Little Rain-Drop, - - 160 

Influexce of Nature, - - - 162 

A Fragment, - - - 170 

The Months, - - - - 172 



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